“Gladly, Miss Lawton.”
Next thing she knew he’d stretched out his arm, grasped her wrist and, in one smooth move, pulled her up onto the ledge. She quickly thrust both hands inside the window to grip the edge of the sill, leaning her head down on it for a few moments to catch her breath. She sensed Reed leaning over her back, then felt him grasp her under the arms from behind and pull her forwards into the room, where they both tumbled into an awkward heap on the floor, with her sprawled on top of him.
“Oof!” All the air was punched from her lungs.
Chuckling softly, he lifted his hand and swept her hair from her face and gazed into her eyes. “Hello.”
She felt foolish. She hadn’t thought he’d be awake this late and certainly had never imagined him witnessing her climb. His entry, weeks ago, had been a lot more graceful than hers. Still, if his smile was an indication, he seemed pleased to see her. “Hello.”
“Dropping in for a nocturnal visit, are you?” He sounded amused.
Smiling sheepishly, she shook her head at his pun. “I wanted to see you.”
For the first time she realized what he was wearing. Actually, she felt what he was not wearing! His robe had come undone in their fall. Her eyes shot wide open. With a nervous giggle, she said, “I didn’t expect to see quite so much of you.”
He waggled his eyebrows and the wicked glint in his eyes warned her he was about to say something shocking. “Don’t think you’re seeing it at the moment, sweetheart.” When she hid her face in his chest, he chuckled softly. “There were easier ways to accomplish this, my darling. Not that I’m complaining about the end result.” He ran his hand down her back. “Are you all in one piece?”
She shivered then nodded.
“You scared the daylights out of me!” He hugged her closer.
She lay her head against his chest. His heart was pounding hard and fast. He really had been frightened for her. Leaning her arms on him, she levered herself up and, looking down into his face, said, “I’ve been climbing trees all my life. It was the only way to escape my brothers.”
“I thought the vine wouldn’t hold. Remember the night I climbed in, it had just given way.”
“Oh.” Horror flashed through her. She had forgotten that!
“’ts okay. In my initial fright, I forgot I’d asked the gardener to tie it securely to the wall.” At her raised eyebrows, he said, “You never know when it could come in handy again.”
He looked about to kiss her and she was all for that, but instead he said, “While this is nice, I think we should conduct this conversation in a less… provocative position. Also one that pains my shoulder less.
“Your wound!” Without thinking, she pushed to lever herself up, but at his grunt, she saw she was making things worse. So she rolled off him onto the floor at his side. He sat up and helped her scramble to her feet then followed her up.
He took her hand and led from the dark room to his candlelit bedroom across the hall. Turning, he was about to pull her into his arms. Instead, his whole demeanor changed and he let out a loud growl. “Where did you get that outfit?”
She gave him a sly, sideways smile. “l do have brothers, who lived with my grandmother when they came up to Town. Foster found some of their old clothes in her attic.
“Foster colluded with you in this? How shocking!” His smile changed to a lustful grin. “You look… um... fabulous!”
“I…I …” She began, wanting to get her explanations over with but, when he moved to stand in front of her and his robe parted, she was transfixed by the sight of his muscular thighs. A hot flush suffused her entire body at the thought of what lay... or did not lay!... under his robe. Oh, why couldn’t she be smooth and sophisticated like her sisters?
“Cat got your tongue?”
Must he always sound amused by her? She wanted him to take her seriously!
“I mean… uh…” she looked down at the floor, shuffling her feet and searching for words to explain why she was here. “I’ve missed you,” she blurted, then groaned inwardly. How mature. Not that any woman who’d just climbed the wall to a man’s bedroom could be considered mature, but surely she didn’t have to sound quite so gauche.
Cringing, she wished she could simply disappear in a puff of smoke. But that wasn’t going to happen. She had to face him and settle this or she’d never forgive herself.
“I did too. Miss you, that is.”
“You did?” she whispered.
He nodded and pulled her into his arms. “How can you doubt it? Don’t you know how I feel about you?”
“You never came to find me.”
“Couldn’t.” He showered her with little kisses across her face and down her neck. “Had obligations.” His kisses slowed and deepened. “Can I tell you about that later?”
“All right.” She felt shy and unsure what to do. “I guess you weren’t expecting me.” She sighed and rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes for a moment.
He chuckled softly. She liked the feel of his laughter vibrating against her.
“I certainly didn’t expect you to arrive this way, my dear little wife…”
Her head rose sharply. Had he lost his memory again?
“No, the amnesia’s not back.” He jiggled her gently. “But that’s still how I think of you.”
When he hadn’t come to find her, she’d been wishing it wasn’t the same for her. But he did indeed feel like her heart’s partner?
She’d come a long way in a very short time. Her life had never taken such a sharp turn. To suddenly be eager for marriage and to an artist! But being without him these past days had been hell. That, and being threatened with certain death, had made her realize how important it was to make the most of life now. Not to be afraid. To go after what you want and not think of all the bad things that might happen. What could be worse than being left to die in a cold, concrete cell underground?
Then his painting had arrived and she’d wondered if he was feeling the same.
She put her arms around him and hugged him tight. Felt his hand in her hair softly kneading her scalp.
“And it’s how I want to think of you forty years from now and until the end of our lives.” Tenderly, Reed tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. “Will you be mine, sweet Tally, lock, stock and barrel?”
Damn! What in blazes was he thinking? That was absolutely the wrong thing to say! On the drive back from rescuing Tally, she’d slept in his arms the entire way, while Foster had made the most of his opportunity to talk to Reed about her. He hadn’t been subtle; nor had Reed, for that matter. He’d guzzled every bit of it up like a thirsty sailor back on dry land. Tally’s faithful guardian warned him about her determination never to be dependent on any man, let alone an artist, because of her feast-to-famine childhood. It explained a lot about her reactions. He knew he had some reassuring to do.
“What about the duke’s daughter?” she muttered into his chest. That woman had caused her a lot of unhappy moments and she still wanted to hear his explanation.
“You mean Lady Christabel?”
“Your father told me you were betrothed to her.” She tried to say it calmly but her voice trembled. Despite the newspaper notice, she still had a hard time believing it wasn’t true.
“That day he came to see you, after my so-called fiancé’s visit?” There was a trace of anger in his question.
“You know about that?” She looked up into his face. Was he angry with her? “How?”
“The new butler, Hislop.”
“I was surprised when your father came to see me. I didn’t know who Grandma Eva’s bosom pal was and, when I told her I was going home to Evesham, she immediately went to see her friend, Daphne... your grandmother!” At his complacent nod, she frowned, wondering how long he’d known. She decided some explanations could wait until later. “Your father was visiting his mother and overheard them talking and immediately came to see me.”
“I’m so sorry you had to face that,�
�� he apologized. “I’ve had it out with him. If it’s any comfort, after meeting you, he went to the Duke and told him that there would probably be no betrothal. That he was almost positive I would soon be betrothed to you.”
She lifted her head to look at him, a question in her eyes.
“You must have impressed him.” He nuzzled her nose. “I made him see the trouble he had caused and he now understands he is to stay out of my life and business permanently.” His hands slid slowly up and down her arms, in a casual caress from shoulder to elbow. “I knew he must have said something that made you leave.” He looked for her agreement and she nodded. “That’s why I sent the article from the Times. I wanted to reassure you. I hoped it and the painting would be enough to lure you back to Town.”
“It was! It did! We packed our bags and here I am. But why didn’t you come to find me sooner?”
“It’s a long story, connected to the men spying on us from across the street, which I will delight in telling you about later.” He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. “Right now, we have better things to do.”
She pushed him back a little from her. “Oh no, we don’t. I need more explanations first.”
“About what?” There was an edge of impatience in his voice.
“About your father believing you need a rich wife to help the family coffers, for instance. Do you?”
He groaned. “Is that what he said?”
“Not in those exact words, but it was what I understood him to mean.”
“Look, my father has long believed he has the right to run my... all of my brothers and sisters’ lives, which is why I spent the past six years abroad.” He sprinkled a flurry of fairy kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, as if he couldn’t help himself, then loosened his arms to see her expression. “I know everyone believes my father exiled me, but the truth is I exiled myself, I had to get away from his constant interference in my affairs.”
“But how did you survive without his support?” She tightened her hug, offering comfort.
“I didn’t need his money, I had my own, which maddened him no end. I inherited a sizable amount from my maternal grandfather and I multiplied it several times over on the ‘Change’.” He paused for a moment before adding, “My esteemed sire tried to force me into this same betrothal, when Lady Christabel was only thirteen! He and the Duke hatched it up between them. I refused. He threatened to disinherit me.”
His father’s obduracy still irked him, after all these years. “I told him to go ahead and do so, packed my bags and left England, refusing to use my title. I settled in Egypt, where I began an import-export business that has netted me a tidy sum. I suppose one could consider me to be a veritable nabob, were I to let it be bruited about. I’m not sorry about it, even if Society condemns commerce. It ensures that I and my brothers and sisters will never have to be dependent on our controlling father for our livelihood.”
“So your father doesn’t own this house?”
“Good god, no! What made you think that?”
“The clerk at Hornings and Crosbie told me that G. Marvin owned both properties. He said they’d deduced the owner was really the Earl of Merkvale, after his personal assistant inquired about the properties.”
“I’ll have that fool’s job!” Reed was outraged. “Anyone who works in a law office should know better than to gossip about a clients’ business. And then to get it wrong!” The very thought infuriated him. “I am G. Marvin. “G” for Gorden and “Marvin” for my uncle who left me Chemsley House, my official home, and a goodly sum for its upkeep. My brothers have been staying there while I’ve been away, much to my father’s dismay.
I bought these two townhouses nine years ago. I needed a place where I could paint and where my father would have no say about it.” His eyebrow lifted in an ironic smile. “You can just imagine what he thinks about one of his sons painting!”
She grimaced, thinking that, in his own way, Reed had had to overcome obstacles for his art just like she had. He also used a pseudonym, she’d learned from Foster, who’d heard it from Hislop. He was a well-known painter whose works were hanging in the Royal Academy (They may even have viewed some of them together that day!!) and other prestigious art galleries. In his case, he used another name to avoid embarrassing his family. Artists were not the thing for gentlemen to be known as, in elite families.
He continued, “I had both houses renovated in the same style, turning the top floors into studios to obtain the most light possible. I was going to rent the one next door to other artists who needed somewhere to paint in London.”
“You said ‘was’, have you changed your mind?”
“Come, I’ll show you.” Releasing her from his embrace, he took her hand and led her upstairs to the studio where she’d worked last month. He ushered her in ahead of him and stood back to watch her take in the renovations he’d had done.
“You’ve torn down the wall between the studios! Between the two houses!” Stunned, she went over to look at the space between the two studios. “You’ve made it into a sitting room! It’s beautiful. And so restful looking.”
“Exactly what I wanted,” he said from behind her.
From the doorway of the new room, she took in the large divan, the comfortable-looking armchairs framing the fireplace, and small side tables to hold refreshments. “But why?”
“We’re going to need a bigger house once we have children...” He was startled and a little worried by her gasp and the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You don’t want–?”
“No!” At his stricken look, she realized he’d misunderstood. “I mean, of course, I want children! Especially...” Look where her impulsive tongue had taken her! “...yours,” she finished timidly.
A happy smile on his face, he took her hands in his. “Combining the houses makes sense, especially since we’re going to be two artists in the family. We’ll each need our own studio.”
He sounded so sincere, so loving, more tears welled up and threatened to spill over.
“I thought it would be nice for us to have somewhere, a quiet place away from everyone else, where we could spend time together when we aren’t busy.” A gentle finger wiped away the moisture on her cheek.
“You did this for me?”
“For us.” He turned her to face the room and, putting his arms around her from behind, pulled her back to lean against him. “I picture us spending many happy hours here together. I wanted you to see that I valued your work and I’d never think of stopping you, or anyone with your talent, from pursuing it.” He spun her back into his arms and leaned his forehead against hers. “For me to be happy, you have to be happy.”
“Oh, Reed.” Marveling at all he’d done to prove his love for her, she pulled him closer, no longer afraid to show it, to feel it, to let it fill her heart. “I love you.”
“And I love you.” He assured her.
“I thought we’d never be together,” she said. “There seemed to be so many obstacles.”
“But sweetheart, didn’t you know that all is possible in love?” He said in his customary, confident way.
“I’ve never much believed in that romantic twaddle, as Foster calls it.”
“Luckily, I believe enough for both of us.” He planted another flurry of soft little pecks all around her face, making her laugh. “I love your smile and I adore hearing you laugh. We’re going to do a lot of that, my darling, I promise you.” His voice roughened and this time when his mouth covered hers, it was insistent, demanding a response, requiring her full participation, pleading for her surrender.
Her heart overflowing with joy and love, she gave him what he wanted and more.
Even held close in his arms, she couldn’t believe this was happening. She was going to be married!
For so long she’d thought it impossible, something that others did, but never her. She’d been afraid, she saw that now. Afraid she’d be taken for granted and ignored, just like her family had done. Afraid that, if she married
, her spouse would waste her money, neglect her and their children and allow them to go hungry. And not allow her to paint. She couldn’t face a lifetime of that.
She’d been a coward!
Sensing she wasn’t fully with him, Reed slid his lips from her mouth to her ear and whispered huskily, “I can almost hear the gears in your head spinning.” Pulling back a little, he asked, “What are you thinking?”
“It’s all so overwhelming. I’m having a hard time believing...” her words tapered off. She’d spotted an easel set in front of the window, just where hers had been when this has been her studio. Curiosity wriggled inside her. She’d seen his sketches, but the only painting of his she’d viewed was the one he sent her. She shot him a quick glance. She knew better than to look at another artist’s work without their permission.
“Go ahead.” Flashing a wicked smile, he opened his arms to free her and, with an expansive wave, invited her to look.
Would he always be able to read her like this? Obviously, she was no good at hiding her thoughts. But her curiosity was such that she felt little embarrassment when she went to get a glimpse of his work.
Oh my god! Now she was embarrassed! A full body flush swept through her. She tried to say something. Nothing came. She was too stunned.
“You don’t like it?” She heard the laughter in his voice.
Then, she recognized the background. “You saw my painting of you!”
Madre di Dio! Tally was certain she couldn’t feel more mortified if she were walking naked in Hyde Park!
He nodded with a knowing smile.
“When? How?” She squirmed with shame. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to look him in the face again.
“Twice, actually.” He continued without her having to ask. “The night after I first came to the studio and you warned me never to come again.”
He laughed aloud at the exasperated look she threw him, before she turned back to gape at his painting.
“And again the night you went to your sisters’ rout.” He came over to stand beside her in front of the portrait. “It gave me hope that, despite the prickly distance you kept between us, you did care for me. I saw the artist’s respect for her subject; her belief in his integrity.”
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 51
