Resolved, she left the schoolroom, closing the door behind her. As she descended the stairs, she heard the front door open, followed by the sound of two familiar voices. James and Relia—they were back! She quickened her pace, reached the first floor landing…and stopped dead when she caught sight of them in the entrance hall below.
They stood close together, not touching, not even speaking now, but in their stillness and silence Amy read a world of meaning. The resulting flash of insight was as blinding as the proverbial lightning bolt: her betrothed and her twin were in love.
Shock, then relief, crashed over her in waves, bringing with them a sense of release so powerful she could have burst into song—or hysterical laughter. What a mess they’d all managed to make of what ought to be the simplest thing in the world!
Simple—and she would do her best to set it right. How could Relia have kept such a secret from her for all this time? And how she must have suffered, believing James lost to her! And how Amy loved her for her selfless restraint!
But it would be better, far better, as it was.
She gave a light cough to gain their attention, and had to stifle a laugh when she saw how quickly they moved apart, their faces wearing almost identical expressions of guilt.
“Relia, James.” She smiled at them both. “I think—you have something to tell me?”
***
Neither James nor Amy could ever have imagined that the dissolution of their engagement would be so painless. And yet, given the liking and regard on both sides, perhaps it wasn’t so peculiar, James reasoned, reluctantly accepting the ring Amy insisted on returning.
“You are one of the finest women of my acquaintance,” he told her. “And you deserve a husband who can give you his whole heart on your marriage.”
“Thank you, James.” Amy regarded him with unrestrained affection. “I am fond of you too. Indeed, I esteem you above almost every man I know. But I think, upon reflection, that we may not suit as well as we first thought. And not merely because you and Relia love each other to distraction.” She paused, her expression growing pensive. “Even as your wife, I doubt I could ever be completely at home in Cornwall, while you are at home here as you are nowhere else. I’m not selfish enough to demand that you live in London, where you’d be miserable beyond a doubt. Fortunately, my sister seems to love Cornwall as much as she loves you.”
“Fortunate, indeed,” James agreed, pocketing the ring. “Although I think, in different circumstances, you and I would not have done so poorly together.”
“Probably not.” She smiled at him. “But I suspect you and Relia will do a great deal better than that.”
He returned her smile. “On that we’re agreed. May I—call you sister?”
“Indeed, you may. Dear brother.” Her smile turned wicked. “Better you any day than Stupid Charlie!”
***
“Mr. Vandermere—Charlie,” Aurelia paused, looking into the face of her first love, then made herself continue, “I cannot in good conscience allow you to persist in your courtship of me, nor offer you false hope. So much has changed in the last few days. Enough to make me understand that—we cannot go back to the way things were between us.”
Contrary to all expectation, it was painful to give pain to him, to see the hope in his face die away. He nodded once, twice, swallowing visibly. “I see. There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” Aurelia confirmed. “I care for Lord Trevenan. And he cares for me as well.”
“But Amy—”
“She and Trevenan have ended their betrothal, amicably and with no ill will. As it turns out, Amy was having doubts as well.” Again she experienced that giddy sense of relief that she hadn’t ruined things for her twin.
“The Earl of Trevenan prefers you to Amy.” Charlie sounded almost dazed to hear it.
Aurelia raised her brows. “Is that so incomprehensible?”
Charlie flushed. “Of course not! I did! It’s just…” He floundered to a stop.
Taking pity on him, she explained, “It isn’t merely that Trevenan prefers me. It’s knowing that, when he looks at me, he doesn’t see someone broken and in need of mending.”
“You think that’s how I see you?” He sounded startled.
“Isn’t it?” she countered gently. “The truth now, Charlie.”
For a moment, she thought he’d continue to deny it. But from the bleakness in his eyes, she perceived that her accident was as sharply etched on his memory as on hers.
“I still remember—how you looked, that day…” He swallowed again. “So fragile. And I came to break your heart. I should have had more faith in my own.”
“I am sure the pressure and the expectations on you were enormous. Your parents wouldn’t have wanted you to wed an invalid. And I—well, I convinced myself it was the right thing to do, to offer to set you free.” That she had hoped he’d refuse to go had been her mistake, or rather, her naïvete. What had she told James? She’d made it easy for Charlie to leave her, and so he’d gone. But not, she realized now, without regrets or doubts…or shame.
He shook his head. “You don’t have to make excuses for me, Aurelia. I spoiled everything that was between us, through my own selfishness and cowardice.”
“And so you tried to make up for it, by courting me again.”
“I’d hoped there was a way back, for both of us.”
“I think, for a time, I hoped the same. But we aren’t the same people we were then.” She managed a smile. “We can’t go back, my dear, so we must go on—separately.”
He gave a jerky nod. “I have never met your equal. I never will.”
Aurelia’s eyes stung. “Hush! I think, in time, you will meet someone who is right for you now. Clinging to the old dream wouldn’t be fair to either of us. But I can remember that dream fondly now, without bitterness or regret.”
“Truly?” His eyes were suspiciously moist, but she saw the shadow of hope in them yet.
“The girl I was can forgive the boy you were, long ago,” she told him. “And the woman I am now wishes you only the best. You tried to make amends, Charlie, belatedly but sincerely. I will always—esteem you for that.”
“Might I,” Charlie cleared his throat, “might I kiss you—one last time?”
Aurelia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her first love cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. Tentative and sweet, like the children they had been—because Charlie hadn’t been so very much older than she, nor so much more worldly. If matters had been different, they might have married and lived to a contented old age together. But things being as they were…this kiss was a shadow, compared to what she had found with James.
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Be happy, dear Charlie. You do deserve to be.”
“So do you,” he said, his voice oddly choked. “You deserve every blessing life has to offer. I hope Trevenan agrees.”
Aurelia smiled. “He does, I assure you.” Then, knowing how painful it must be for him to hear her talk about James and herself, she asked, “Will you and your family be staying in England for the rest of the summer?”
Charlie shook his head. “I expect we’ll be sailing for home soon. Father’s already returned to New York, and Mother and Sally are eager for Newport in August.”
It seemed another world now, and one she found she did not miss, though she would remember it with a touch of nostalgia from time to time. “I wish you and your family a safe journey.”
“Thank you.” A brief touch of her hand, and he was gone, striding away through the garden, the sunlight glinting on his fair head. Safely alone, Aurelia let some tears fall for what they had once shared, but other, more pleasurable thoughts soon dispelled them.
Some minutes later, James came to sit beside her on the garden bench. “All is well?”
“I think so. Or it will be—in time.” She sighed. “I was truly sorry to cause him pain. Does that sound strange?”
He shook his head. “You cared for him
once. And one’s first love is always special.”
“It is. But,” she turned to smile at him, “it doesn’t hold a candle to one’s last love!”
“I’m relieved to hear it,” he replied, and kissed her until the past receded entirely and only the present, bright with promise, remained.
After a time, James stood up and held out his hand. “Come, love. Amy thinks the three of us should go and talk to your parents, and sort it all out between us.”
“By all means.” Taking his hand, Aurelia let him lead her into their future.
***
“All’s well that ends well, wouldn’t you say?” Amy remarked that night as the twins sat together in Aurelia’s room, having the heart-to-heart talk they should have had long ago.
Aurelia nodded, still astonished at the relative ease with which their situation had been resolved. A tense moment had occurred at the start of the family meeting, when Papa had fixed James with a stern eye and declared, “I’ll have you know, Trevenan, that my daughters are not interchangeable.” But James had only taken Aurelia’s hand and replied with the steadfastness she loved in him, “That is what I have come to realize, sir.” Once all the explanations were made, reconciliation and resolution had swiftly followed. Aurelia suspected that Amy’s blithe acceptance of the situation and visible lack of regret had also smoothed the way.
“I should have seen what was happening right under my nose,” Amy said, a bit ruefully. “More than that, I should have seen how much better suited you and James were.”
“Amy,” Aurelia began in instinctive protest, but her twin held up a forestalling hand.
“I mean it, Relia. When James was in trouble, I stood aside, telling myself he could handle it. You were the one who jumped in feet first, determined to help.”
“I told myself I was doing it for you,” Aurelia confessed. “I didn’t know I was capable of such self-deception.”
“Maybe self-deception is a natural complication of being in love. But the best woman won,” Amy added in a rallying tone, “or rather, the woman who’s best for James won.”
“I never saw this as a rivalry, dearest. I tried so hard for it not to turn into one, even when—” Aurelia broke off, not wanting her twin even now to know how difficult it had been.
“Even when you resented my good fortune most?” Amy asked without rancor, smiling.
“Even then. Oh, Amy, are you so sure that you don’t mind?”
“Surer than I’ve been in a long time. To tell the truth, it’s almost a relief that you’re taking not only James but Cornwall off my hands.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” Aurelia defended her future home.
“So it is, but not for me. My stay here has shown me what a social creature I am! Much too frivolous to live far from London, though I shall enjoy visiting you and James here.”
“You’ll always be welcome.” Aurelia paused, studying her twin’s bright face. “Dearest, I only wish you could be as happy! Or at least stop holding love at arm’s length the way you do.”
“I know, I know. I’ve never let anyone get close enough for me to love him.”
“No, I meant that you’ve never let anyone get close enough to love you,” Aurelia corrected. “And you deserve it so much, Amy. To love and be loved in return.”
Amy fell silent, her face growing pensive. “Do you know what I’ve always admired about you, Relia?” she said at last. “You were brave enough to risk your heart, twice. Charlie disappointed you cruelly, but you didn’t let that stop you from loving again. From loving James. I would give a great deal—for that sort of courage. As it is, I’ll have to rely on plain old American nerve! Good thing Aunt Caroline is still in London.”
Aurelia eyed her warily. “Just what do you mean to do?”
“You have your man,” Amy declared, kissing her on the cheek. “And now I think it’s time, and past time, for me to get mine.” She rose from the sofa they’d been sharing and headed for the door. “Good night, dearest.”
“Good night,” Aurelia echoed.
Alone, she reflected on her twin’s last words. Who else could Amy have meant but the recently decamped Mr. Sheridan? How extraordinary! She hoped Amy knew what she was doing. If Mr. Sheridan broke her twin’s heart, he’d have her to answer to.
A light tap on the door, followed by a low voice calling her name, drove all else from her thoughts. Smiling, she rose to admit her fiancé. Hers—the knowledge was impossibly sweet. She spared a moment to be thankful that her family’s rooms were all out of earshot, then feasted her eyes on him as he slipped inside, clad only in a dressing gown, sashed loosely about the waist.
He gazed at her, his eyes kindling like dark fires, and a smile, at once ardent and tender, stole across his face. All the sweeter for the waiting, he’d promised her—and now they need wait no more. At long last they were together, as they’d been when they waltzed in his aunt’s conservatory, more than a year ago. Just James and Aurelia, with no shadows between them.
And just as he had that night, he held out his hand and she took it without a word. What more needed to be said?
***
Aurelia watched from the bed in growing excitement and anticipation as James shrugged out of his dressing gown and draped it over a chair. So handsome—with his broad shoulders, lean torso, and long limbs, the last marred only by the bandage around his left arm. By lamplight, his pale olive skin took on an almost golden cast that made a dramatic contrast to his dark hair and eyes. When he turned around to face her, she flushed as red as fire. Miss Witherspoon’s long-ago lessons on anatomy seemed inadequate, to say the least.
Seeing her expression change, he paused. “Aurelia, if you’re having second thoughts—”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. Your body is so beautiful. Perfect. I—I wish mine were, for you.” She pulled the sheet closer around her own naked form, suddenly shy again. “I have scars you haven’t seen yet, just as off-putting as the one on my face.”
He came to perch on the side of the bed, his night-dark eyes gone soft as shadows on velvet. “Loveday.” The Cornish endearment was music on his tongue. “There is nothing, absolutely nothing, about you that isn’t beautiful to me. Beautiful—and desirable.”
Joy rose in her, golden and glowing as a sunburst, banishing the last vestiges of self-doubt and inferiority. Smiling, radiant, she let the sheet fall and reached for him instead.
***
Nothing about her that wasn’t beautiful to him.
Like the flood of her hair, all amber-shot gold in the lamplight, now loosed and falling heavily over her shoulders. Crowning glory—he lifted a lock, let the strands slide like silk between his fingers.
Like her face, with its delicate features and speaking eyes. The fine nose, and upturned lips, with that wistful sweetness lurking at their corners. The skin, so petal-soft, even to the curving line of her scar that now seemed to him less a blemish than a grace note to her beauty.
Like her body, with its high, round bosom and trim waist, her fair skin flushing the translucent pink of a pearl when he touched her, lightly but intimately. He touched her as if he had never known another woman so, sliding his hands over contours and curves. And down, to the gentle flare of her hips and beyond.
The scars on her left thigh brought an involuntary murmur of pity from him, but the limb as a whole was still sound and shapely. He kissed his way up its length, felt her shiver beneath the pressure of his mouth and murmur his name, her fingers reaching down to twine in his hair.
At the juncture of her thighs he found the triangle of soft fleece, slightly darker than her hair, and teased it gently with his fingers as he sought her opening. The tender seam parted beneath his fingers and he slipped one inside, probing the moist heat of her core.
Aurelia gave a soft gasp at the intrusion, but relaxed as he began to stroke her, lightly, then more firmly, until she arched against his hand, seeking still more. He coaxed her further along, higher, faster—and felt a surge o
f fierce triumph when she neared the peak, eyes widening, breath catching…and then climaxed, her body shuddering its release, her face transcendent with discovery. The bud of her sweet spirit broke…Thrilled, and was cloven, and from the full sheath came / The whole rose of the woman, red as flame.
“Beautiful,” he murmured when she lay quiet in his arms once more. “And all mine.”
“Always yours,” Aurelia whispered, reaching up to caress his face. “From the moment you first asked me to dance. Didn’t you know?” She turned in his embrace. “Make love to me again, James. I know there’s more to what we’re doing than this.”
“This part may hurt you,” he warned, stroking her hair back from her face.
No stranger to pain, she smiled and shook her head. “I’ll wager I’ve known worse.” Her hand trailed over his chest, then began sliding downward—seeking, exploring…
He stifled a groan when her fingers closed around him, squeezed gently. “Torment,” he said, and heard her low laugh against his heart.
He rolled over, pinning her neatly to the bed. She was still laughing, her eyes bright with mischief, her hands ready to wreak further havoc on his person. Another dance, in which they were equal partners: stroking, caressing, and finding out what each enjoyed most. He reveled in her eager exploration of his body, teased her again to the brink of fulfillment, and at last, positioned himself at her body’s opening and entered by slow degrees, trying to give her the chance to grow accustomed to the feeling of him inside her.
Despite his efforts, she stiffened, surprise and discomfort playing across her face. He paused at once, suspended within the tight heat of her inner passage. Sensations rippled and pulsed along his length, but he remained still for her sake, doing his best to ignore them. But then, just as he was berating himself for a clumsy oaf, her expression eased and she began to relax, carefully adjusting her position to accommodate his presence.
Penitent, he touched his lips to her brow, her eyelids. “Loveday, shall I—”
“Stay with me, James.” One leg lifted, wrapped tentatively about his hip. “Stay with me.”
Waltz With a Stranger Page 40
