If her tenure as the marchioness of Moreton had altered her dress and demeanor, resulting in a decidedly ribald exterior he never quite reconciled with her youthful personality, since she had always been a tad shy, the ensuing difficulty of widowhood battered what survived her relatively brief marriage, to the extent that her once vivacious expression now sported hallowed cheekbones and dark circles beneath her eyes. Gone were the luscious curves of her figure, and in its place a strikingly thin form wasted.
“Good morning, my dear Almira.” As would a gentleman, he bowed. “I wonder if you might indulge me in an old tradition, of sorts, and accompany me on a walk about the countryside?”
“Under better circumstances, I might be persuaded, but it is rather chilly, and I do not have a serviceable pelisse.” Despite her initial hesitance, she peered out the window and bit her bottom lip. “Do you remember all those times we ran through the meadows, as children, before we broke our fast?”
“How could I forget? And Dalton told me of a little path that runs along the coast, which I would love to tour, but if you do not think you can manage it, I suppose I shall have to enjoy it, alone.” Yes, he baited her, as she could never resist a challenge. “However, Daphne loaned you a warm, woolen pelisse, a matching bonnet, kidskin gloves, and half-boots, as you are similar in size. What say you, my sweet girl?”
“It has been so long since you called me that.” In a flurry of activity, she kicked off her slippers, eased her feet into the borrowed shoes, tied the laces, pulled on the bonnet, which she secured with a flirty, offset bow, and then gave him her back. “Oh, hurry, Nicholas, as I am uncontrollably excited.”
“Hold still.” As she all but bounced, he draped the garment about her shoulders and fastened the button at the ermine collar. “Now then, that should keep you warm, in the event I fail to do so.”
“Nicholas.” Ah, the charming blush returned with a vengeance, and he counted it a boon. “What if someone hears you?”
“Darling, have you not noticed this family does not ascribe to the usual conventions, especially after what happened at dinner, last night?” When Almira innocently assumed Lady Alex’s seat at the table, Jason drew his pregnant wife to his lap, in full view of everyone. “Even after you vacated Mrs. Collingwood’s chair, her husband refused to relinquish her and insisted on feeding her. Nothing I could possibly do would ever compete with that.”
“But it was funny and rather sweet.” She clucked her tongue and then cast him a narrow stare. “Shall I race you?”
With a squeal that set his heart pounding, she flung open the front door and charged into the sunlight, with Nicholas on her tail. Across the courtyard, she bolted, and he pursued her, as she led him on a merry chase through the guideposts, which marked the trail. As she skipped down the stone footpath, she slowed, reached behind her, and without thought he took her hand and twined his fingers in hers, just as he did when he was her young fiancé. While did she not yet wear his ring, he vowed she would accept him before they returned to London.
Darting among the snow-covered dunes, which glittered like a sea of diamonds, she giggled and sprinted faster. At last, she let go, hiked her skirts, affording him a sumptuous view of her shapely calves, and dashed up the verge. When she came to a sudden halt, he almost knocked her to the ground.
“What is it, Mira?” He lowered his voice, when she shushed him and pointed.
On the beach, Daphne and Dalton frolicked at the water’s edge, and Daphne shrieked when her husband lifted her above the encroaching surf. Hugging his wife, Dalton whirled about, in circles, and she laughed. Then he carried her clear of the tide and engaged in an amazingly thorough kiss that brought telltale warmth to Nicholas’s cheeks.
“That could have been us.” With a soft sob, Mira sniffed, and her short-lived glow faded. “That should have been us. Oh, what was stolen from us.” Then she pivoted and flung herself at him. “It is too much to bear.”
“It is all right, sweetheart.” Cradling her head, he held her close, and he envied Dalton and Daphne’s carefree existence unencumbered by a mournful past. In silence, Nicholas drew Almira inland, to shelter amid a cluster of trees, where he might provide succor. “We will find our way back, and we will live your dream. I swear it on our firstborn.”
“I want it all, Nicholas.” In that moment, she wrenched free and grasped fistfuls of his greatcoat. “If I agree to your offer, to consider marriage at the end of the holidays, I will settle for nothing less than what I want, what I always envisioned for us.”
“And that would be—what?” Given the wild gleam in her eye, he gulped.
“Although I shall leave the selection of our home to you, as I have no demands in that respect, there are things I simply must have to succeed as your wife.” Palpable desperation invested her expression and tore at his heart. “You must have a bench installed in the garden, whereupon we will relax, and on warm and sunny afternoons, you must read to me. I will have a chatelaine in gold, with chains of delicate filigree, decorated with tiny seed pearls and a pink cameo, along with my keys, a thimble, a pair of small scissors, a needle case, a pin cushion, perhaps a tiny knife, and anything else I might need to manage the household. And as our newfound friends recommended, I would share a bedchamber with you, else I should live in fear of any separation from you, given our tragic history.”
“The chatelaine I can commission from my jeweler, to your exact specifications, and you may approve the design, if you wish.” Now she shimmered with joy, and he pledged, then and there, to maintain her unique sparkle. “Anything else, my sweet girl?”
“I want six children.” When he choked on her response, she smiled. “But I shall content myself with seven. And if you give me all that I ask, and promise never to hurt me, I shall deny you nothing.”
“Now that is a bargain I dare not refuse.” Yet a certain aspect of her conditions concerned him. “And I would never hurt you, Mira.” Though he hesitated to broach the subject, he had to make a particular aspect clear. “Please, you must know that whatever occurred between you and Moreton is none of my affair. It is in the past and best left there.”
“But there is much to explain.” Given her persistence, Nicholas suspected he did not want to know what she seemed determined to confess. “If you intend to wed me, you must know everything of my sordid history, because I fear some haphazard discovery could forever destroy us. Then, if you still want me, I will marry you.”
“Why are you so certain I will default on my offer, when we both know I have heard the rumors?” With a finger, he traced the curve of her lips and then claimed a quick kiss. “Believe me, nothing you can say will dissuade me, but I will make you a proposition. When you are prepared to accept my formal proposal of marriage, I will entertain your concerns.”
“You will listen to me, without interrupting?” She furrowed her brow. “You will give me your word, as a gentleman, that you will hear me, and if you change your mind, you will be honest?”
“You have my solemn promise, but I should warn you, I am of a singular purpose.” In play, he backed her against the trunk of a massive oak, bent his head, and claimed her mouth in a soul-stirring kiss, as he needed her just then. With a sultry moan, Almira blossomed for him, as she wound her arms about his neck and pressed herself to him.
“Nicholas, I want you.” She nipped his neck. “Is it wrong to feel that way?”
“No, my dear.” Oh, no. Not when he shared her desire. “Trust me, there is nothing I want more than to make love to you, but we will wait until we are properly wed to consummate our nuptials.”
“That never stopped you, before.” Ah, she flirted with him, and he liked it. When he shifted, opened the folds of his greatcoat, and draped the wool about her, she snuggled to his chest and sighed. “I would amend my requirements to add plenty of hugging in our household, especially in relation to our children. Did you notice how demonstrative the family is, when they gather, and everyone hugs without reservation?”
“Y
es, I did.” As he met her stare, and he noted the shadows that darkened her once bright gaze, he tightened his hold and blurted, “Did Moreton beat you?”
“Among other things, yes.” Tears filled her eyes, and she nodded. “And I am not ashamed to admit that never was I so happy than on the day he died, because he was a monster, a cruel and evil beast, Nicholas.”
“Oh, my sweet girl.” Anger cut him to the quick, and he thirsted for blood, but the bastard was dead. Still, to imagine anyone physically abusing Almira’s gentle spirit ravaged his gut, and he gritted his teeth against a sharp invective. “Know this, my darling. Never again will anyone strike you.”
“But that is only half of it.” What he would give to erase the unmistakable terror that pervaded her countenance, and he could not begin to fathom the cause, which scared him worse than what she revealed. “In fact, punishments commenced almost from the altar, as he—”
“Good morning.” Holding hands with Daphne, Dalton arched a brow and grinned. “Did we interrupt anything of importance?”
“Er, no.” Stretching upright, Nicholas set Almira at arm’s length, and she averted her stare as she righted her pelisse. “We walked the trail, and Mira caught a chill.”
“Then it was fortunate you were there to keep her warm, as Dalton often does the same for me.” Ever the polite hostess, Daphne drew Almira aside. “Let us return to the house, as the rest of the family arrives today, and I must prepare for them. Perhaps you could help me, Lady Almira.”
“Please, call me Almira, or Mira, as do my friends, and I should like to call you such.” Almira peered over her shoulder at Nicholas, and he winked. “And I will assist you, however I can.”
“Overnight she thrives, Nicholas.” As they lingered in the wake of their ladies, Dalton frowned. “But she hides something, as she lacks the characteristic boldness she wielded as a weapon, in the ton’s ballrooms.”
“Something is most assuredly wrong, because she is frightened.” No, she was terrified, downright haunted by some horrible revelation she believed would forever drive them apart.
“Of what?” Dalton inquired.
Now that was the question. “I know not, but I intend to find out and smash whatever torments her.”
~
In the soft glow of a gorgeous sunset, which bathed the sky in vivid watercolor hues, Almira gazed at the turbulent waters of the Channel and mulled the day’s events. Despite multiple attempts throughout the afternoon, she had yet to divulge her secrets to Nicholas, and she simply could not let herself believe he would want her, after he learned the awful truth she concealed.
Almost every hour, another elegant coach appeared in the courtyard, and Daphne insisted Almira join the receiving line as a member of the family. By the time the last guests, Lady Elaine and Sir Ross Logan, crossed the threshold, Almira was near tears, given the warmth with which she was welcomed into the large, extended group of relations, because never had she known such amity, especially from the women who were, for all intents and purposes, strangers.
Yet, despite the kindness extended by the somewhat quirky kindred, she could not find her place among them, as she believed her past excluded her from such estimable company. No doubt, when they discovered her secret, they would shun her.
“My lady, the dinner bell sounded, and you do not wish to be late.” Mildred picked up a pair of discarded hose. “I will await your return, this evening.”
“No, you will not.” Almira turned on a heel and strolled to the door. “You will retire early, as you have yet to recover from our long journey, and I worry about your health.”
“Be that as it may, it is my duty, and I will be here.” The lovable, grey-haired servant dished just as much sauce in her advanced age as she did when she was young. “Have a wonderful time, as you deserve it.”
“Perhaps one day you will remember that you work in my employ.” Although Almira adopted an air of superiority, she grinned. “And I am your mistress.”
“I would not hold my breath, if I were you, because I am too old and set in my ways to change, now.” Mildred humphed. “If you wanted some namby-pamby maid, you should have discharged me years ago. After I put everything in order, I will take my evening meal below stairs, with the house staff, and then I will read until you summon me.”
“Stubborn old bird.” With a reproachful tsk, Almira shook her head. “Please, take care of yourself, because you are my only family.”
“But I gather Lord Waddlington aims to change that, and I support him.” In the sitting room, Mildred fluffed a pillow. “What I do not understand is why you feel the need to tarnish what could be a beautiful union with the stain of Lord Moreton’s evil tendencies. You are no longer his wife, and he cannot hurt you. Why not leave the past behind, my lady?”
“Because I would have Nicholas know the truth, from me.” And Almira would find a way to summon enough courage to make her confession. “If he still wishes to marry me, I will meet him at the altar, unburdened by ugly secrets and with a clear conscience. But I would ask you to ensure my things are packed, that we might leave on a moment’s notice, if necessary.”
With that, she opened the door, walked into the hall, and navigated the chasmal residence, with its Aubusson carpets and Rococo décor, including mezzo-frescoes reminiscent of Tiepolo, vivid pastorals, and gilt-bronze floor to ceiling mirrors framed with abstract and asymmetrical stuccowork unlike any she had ever seen. Descending the stairs, she admired a large portrait of Daphne, which hung in the entry, and surmised Dalton commissioned what appeared to be a recent painting of his wife in regal attire.
In the foyer, Almira turned right and passed the empty drawing room. When she strode by another huge mirror, she caught sight of her reflection and paused. A foreign creature stared back at her, and she cupped her rouged cheek. The jewel-toned green gown boasted a tight bodice with an inordinately low neckline better suited to Mr. Jenkins’s house of ill repute, and she hated herself, in that moment.
Years of abuse manifested in the vision she spied, as she shuffled from side to side and recognized the toy, the plaything on display for Lodge’s predilection and amusement. Indeed, she projected the prize. He wanted men to lust after her and women to envy her, and those who complied were not the sort of people she esteemed.
“Almira, are you all right?” She started, as Daphne approached from behind. “We are already seated at the table. Will you not join us in the dining room for supper?”
“This is not who I am.” As Almira noted the risqué amount of bared décolletage, she shook her head. “I look like a courtesan, not a gently bred noblewoman.”
“I beg your pardon?” The polished hostess positioned herself at Almira’s left. “You are lovely.”
“No, I am not, but you are kind to say that.” Dragging the back of her hand across her face, she scowled at herself. “This is what Lodge wanted, and he bought this dress, which I detest, because it is indecent, but my financial situation is such that I cannot spend money on frivolous indulgences, including new clothes.”
“While I disagree with your assertion, as it is simply a different style, I could loan you a fichu, if it would make you more comfortable.” Daphne tucked a wayward curl behind Almira’s ear. “Although you are quite beautiful, just as you are, and I am sure Lord Waddlington will not complain.”
“But do you not understand that this is not me? This was my husband’s choice.” What was it Mildred said? You are no longer his wife, and he cannot hurt you. Ripping a sleeve, she bared her teeth. “I do not wish to be this person for another instant.”
“Wait here.” Daphne disappeared down the hall.
Minutes later, a small army of elegantly garbed noblewomen converged on Almira, and she retreated a step. Surrounded, she swallowed hard, as they scrutinized her.
At last, Rebecca, the viscountess of Wainsbrough and Dirk’s wife, tapped a finger to her chin. “Sisters, what we have is a fashion emergency, and Almira may rely on our expertise in such matters.”
“Let us adjourn to my apartment.” Daphne grabbed Almira by the wrist, and the collective of delicate but nonetheless determined soldiers repaired upstairs. “Although you are a tad smaller than I, we are similar enough in size that I believe something of mine will fit you, nicely.”
“Your pale blue gown will compliment her eyes.” At the armoire, Lenore sifted through various selections. “Ah, here it is, and the pearl trim about the hem and bodice is absolute perfection.”
“Lenore, you are a genius.” Rebecca loosened the laces of Almira’s dress, and it dropped to the floor. “Lean on me, and step free, my dear.”
“And we should re-coif her hair.” Sabrina, the countess of Woverton and Everett’s wife, snatched a silver-backed brush from the vanity. “Cara, will you help me?”
“Of course.” Cara, Sabrina’s elder sister, the marchioness of Raynesford, and Lance’s wife, tugged a pin from Almira’s curls. “But we will drape a single, flirty lock at her throat.”
Amid so much sisterly affection, Almira failed to suppress the tears that beckoned, and she bowed her head and wept.
“Why do you cry?” inquired Caroline, the countess of Lockwood and Trevor’s wife. “Have we insulted you?”
“Oh, no. It is just that I never had any lady friends, as Lord Moreton forbade it.” Almira sniffed, as she raised her arms, and donned the dress, with Lenore’s assistance. “I will miss you when the holiday is ended.”
“But we will meet in London, and at various parties throughout the Season.” Alex, Jason’s wife, powdered Almira’s cheeks, as Daphne tied the laces. “And you simply must join us for afternoon teas.”
“What do you mean Lord Moreton forbade you from making lady friends? Why are you afraid?” Lingering to one side, Elaine inclined her head and narrowed her stare. “And why do you believe we will not receive you in town?”
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me Page 4
