The Marquess's Final Fling: Christmas Belles, Book #4

by DeLand, Cerise

  A dangerous change of mind.

  She’d arrived early to the card room after lunch. At that meal, she’d torn her attention time and again from Theo who’d sat between the Earl of Leith’s vivacious daughter and an older lady who loved her wine far too much. But Penn had not seen him for the past few hours. And she grew more downhearted by the minute that she did not have his uplifting company. His charming attention.

  She sighed. More than half an hour ago, her three companions had retired to their rooms for an afternoon alone. Perhaps she should do the same. Other company did not compare to Theo’s. But for appearances, she remained where she was. Yearning for him. Just as moths desired flame.

  And I am a moth. A creature needing what I’ve had so little of. Charm. Seduction.

  Penn caught her breath at the spark of desire shooting through her veins.

  Oh, the moth could burn too quickly in such fires.

  She should go.

  But Delphine, the youngest of the three Craymore sisters, entered the card room and glanced around. Was she searching for Neville Vaughn? That young man was so besotted with Del. Had been from their first meeting years ago. And he had promised to marry her too. Then in an incident very much like Theo’s father’s insistence, Neville’s had demanded his son marry a young woman of his choosing. For many reasons, Neville could not refuse. After he’d married, Del had sworn off love and marriage to anyone. Meanwhile, Neville had gone to war on the Continent. Soon after, his wife had taken ill and died. His arrival here the first night of this house party had shocked everyone, especially Del. And he, smart man, had pressed his suit every minute since.

  Penn raised a smiling face to Del who came to join her. They spoke of the charades for tonight’s entertainment.

  “I doubt I’ll play,” Del said, looking unhappy about it.

  “Why not ask Neville to share a scene with you?”

  “I shouldn’t. But I am concerned about him. His wounds make movement difficult for him.”

  Neville, Lord Bromley, was Penn’s cousin. She’d known him since they were children and shared a dancing instructor as well as seen each other often at family gatherings. Days ago he’d come home to England. Having served in Wellington’s army against the French, he was hobbled with a bad leg. He used a cane, but made light of his affliction. “He speaks of it with rueful acceptance. He calls it a poor tune.”

  “He calls it dot-and-go-one and tries to be valiant about it,” Del said. “But I worry about him, Penn.”

  "Part of his suffering is due to the weather. As soon as it stops snowing, he'll feel much better. One of my husbands had old wounds. The war in the Americas, you see. Bouts of aches and pains whenever it rained or snowed. Odd, yes? But Bromley is younger than my husband and he does not appear to be totally incapacitated."

  “I say,” Theo appeared like magic at Penn’s side. Today, he had donned a bottle green coat with brilliant red waistcoat. The man looked as scrumptious as a Christmas feast. “Are you two wishing for a third?”

  “I should not.” Del rose. “Forgive my haste, please. I must consult with Aunt Gertrude. There’s always some detail to attend to. You two can attract a third and fourth, I’m sure.”

  As Del went off, Theo took the chair nearest Penn. “I’ve never been so furious about snow.”

  She had to laugh with him. But as disappointment fled at the sight of his handsome turquoise eyes and those appealing lips, she gave him the honesty he’d always valued. “As am I.”

  That had him catching his breath. Speechless, he opened his mouth but snapped it shut.

  Gratified her words could move him so, she licked her lips and changed to a subject that had bothered her. “Where are your children this Christmas season?”

  “As soon as I decided to attend this party, I wrote to my sister Annabelle to ask her if I might send the girls and the governess to her. Unaccompanied by me, of course. When she agreed, I packed them off. I promised to make it up to them when I return. Two new dolls and a dollhouse should help.”

  A lump in her throat at his sweetness, she inched her hand toward him along the table top.

  He stroked her little finger just once with his own.

  She swallowed. “Why did you decide to come here?”

  “Darling,” he called her in that sonorous bass that must rival the depths of many a mythic god. “You know why.”

  She sucked in a shaking breath. “Who told you I was to be here?”

  “Can I keep no secrets?” he teased her.

  “None.”

  “In one of the London papers, I read that you might travel here. That you come here often. The Countess is a distant relative, I do believe.”

  “She is. And Lord Bromley is my cousin.”

  “As I heard.” He stroked her finger once more. “I took the chance that you would attend this party and that, for once, we might revive a relationship that I cut too short. And to my everlasting regret.”

  “And mine.”

  “Thank heavens that is so,” he murmured, triumph suffusing his face. “This time I will not allow you to escape me without a proper courting.”

  “Theo, make no mistake. I am not interested in being courted.” That was a lie. She would readily accept his interest. The thrill of it. The joy of being with him. “Nor am I interested in another marriage.”

  “No?” He tipped his head. In his gaze stood disbelief.

  The lure of him, the charm of him had her imagining what she did want. His lips on hers. His hands on her. His waistcoat, gone. His shirt, gone. Oh, he would be scandalized if he realized what she really wanted. How she wanted him.

  “You don’t like marriage?” he asked, incredulous.

  She rolled a shoulder. What she didn’t like was this conversation. “It has its merits.”

  “You wouldn’t like to be married to me?”

  Yes. She bit her lower lip.

  “I see. Well then, we must remedy that. I know the cure. Married to me, you would have fun.”

  She hooted, even as hot tears stung her eyelids. “How so?”

  “We would eat biscuits in bed. Biscuits with orange marmalade.”

  He remembered orange marmalade with crisp biscuits were her favorite? “And get crumbs in the bed?”

  “And spill hot chocolate, I’m afraid.”

  What else would we do in bed?

  He must have read her mind because his expression melted into rapt desire. “We’d have to have a very large bed. I’d get one made, longer and wider than you’ve ever seen.”

  Every muscle in her body quivered with expectation. “Theo.”

  “We’d go south from home to Rotherham where I’d show you our iron foundries. Our ploughs are the very best.”

  One of their first discussions when they met twelve years ago had been about new farming methods and equipment. They’d discussed threshers and ploughs. Then she had persuaded him to invest in iron production. Over the past decade, he had made a second fortune producing ploughs. “I’ve read of your success with them and how many have improved their crop yields using them,” she said. “I was always gratified you’d taken my advice to invest in smelting plants and foundries.”

  “I never knew how you came to know so much about iron and farming,” he said with a measure of awe in his voice.

  “My father, like you, was devoted to the health and prosperity of his tenants. He was always searching for new ways to improve their lot. Sadly, he had not the means to buy many ploughs or threshers for them. But you have and you’ve made me very proud.”

  “As you have made me with your charity for orphans.”

  “You know about that, Theo?” She was struck by his attention to her patronage of a small London orphanage.

  “As you have heard, I read newspapers daily. You, my dear, are my favorite subject.”

  “I’m gratified you know so much about me,” she said with humility, wonder and the certain knowledge that he should not read about her, think about her…or even be
here to pursue her.

  He toyed with two of her fingers. “There are a few things I don’t know.”

  Dare she ask? The intimacy of such exchanges could draw them to each other again with renewed awe.

  He grinned and let off twiddling with her fingers. “Your worst trait? What is it?”

  “Ah. I chew my toe nails.”

  He hooted.

  She loved to see him laugh. “I am not as careful as I should be about my attire. I go for walks in the rain in my dancing slippers.”

  He leaned close, his sandalwood and citrus cologne luring her to sharing all her secrets. “You once danced in the rain in them.”

  With you. “I was young, caring not for tomorrow.”

  “Caring only for me.”

  “I loved you then,” she admitted quickly.

  “As I loved you. As I still do. Each minute with you proves it to me.”

  “Be careful what you say, Theo. My heart is easily bruised by you.”

  “I have loved you through all these years, Penelope. Through the ordinary days, the mundane acts of daily life, the Christmases and Easters, the diplomatic missions to St. Petersburg, a fire in my house, the birth of my two daughters, the death of my two wives and their stillborn babies, yes. I believed I loved you. The clear memory of you, your charming smile, your readiness to laugh and your unique understanding of farming and threshers and ploughs, yes, you were my touchstone. Turning all the bad times and the horrible days, the death and the trauma, the hard work and even the arguments with women who had not your good nature and who did inspire bitterness, yes, I believed you were the one I loved best. And never could I have you.” He stopped, his face pale, his throat working fiercely against sorrows he had only listed.

  “I say,” a bass voice intruded.

  Penn fought back the urge to rise, grab Theo’s arm and run away with him.

  “Are you two waiting for two more to join you in a game?” Lord Riverdale looked hopeful.

  “No, my friend.” Theo cleared his throat and got to his feet. “We were just leaving. Off to read in the library, aren’t you, Lady Goddard?”

  “I am. And you, my lord?”

  “I will find a book, then seek solitude in the orangery, I think.”

  “Best do it now,” Riverdale confided. “Others are noticing your…solemnity.”

  “Yes, well.” Theo arched a brow at her. “Shall we, my lady?”

  She offered her gratitude to Riverdale and as graciously as her thumping heart would permit, she preceeded Theo out to the hall.

  There she grasped his hand and led him quickly along the corridor.

  At the double doors to the library, she tugged him inside.

  Laughing, she fell into his arms. “A fine escape!”

  He cupped her cheeks. “I need you, Penn. Your joy, your charm, your dedication to farming and orphans. Your love for people. Could you not love me?”

  The plea in his voice broke her. Going up on her toes, she sighed his name and pressed her lips softly to his. Oh, my god. He was warm and sweet, firm and fierce. Her kiss was too tame, too kind. His arms were too insistent, so strong and unyielding. All that she’d ever wanted in a man had been in his image, his example. She circled her arms around his shoulders and ran her fingers through his silken curls. He groaned and caught her to him. He took her mouth as if he were insatiable, starving. His tongue tangled with hers as he sought all of her, her flavor, her surrender, her soul.

  She broke away for breath.

  He gulped for air. “I will show you how I care.”

  “My darling,” she murmured and crushed her aching breasts against his chest, “each word you utter does that. How can I deny you?”

  “Don’t.” He took her lips in a ravenous kiss. “What could keep us apart now?”

  Every bone, every muscle in her body melted for him. Only she could keep them apart. At least, keep him from her arms and her bed. Because all those issues that had torn them apart twelve years ago still existed. Those she could not change. But for tonight, for this house party, she could seize a portion of the happiness they had been denied before.

  She tossed her curls and eyed him like a coquette. “I know a secret. Want to know what it is?”

  He gave her a sideways look. “Only if you promise to kiss me again after you tell me.”

  She fluttered her lashes at him. “Demanding man. Come with me.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and led him to the far corner. Old copies of leather-bound tomes stood cock-eyed on the two foremost shelves. Reaching inside, she found the handle and the wall, the shelves, the books all gave way. The tiny alcove held two slipper chairs and a wooden staircase up to the next floor.

  He scooped her against him. “You hide wonderful secrets, my lady.”

  She kissed him. “I do! Do you see these stairs? They lead up to the corner of the east wing and my bedroom is just there at the end.”

  “The easiest way to find you, is that what you’re telling me?”

  She affirmed that with a nod. “Tonight, after charades.”

  “Hmm. Yes. I will have to replace my copy of Shakespeare and find another book to read.”

  “You always were a fast reader,” she added, complicit in his fiction.

  “More than that, my sweet lady, I will be your finest lover.”

  Her knees went weak at his promise.

  He pressed her to the book shelves and spread kisses over her jaw and down her throat. He caressed her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple to a high hard point. If they continued, she would allow him anything. And do it here, too.

  “Tonight,” she said, cupping his jaw, grasping at a diversion. “Cleopatra.”

  “I’m sorry.” He raised his head, his gaze clouded with desire. “What?”

  “You could be Caesar and I would be Cleopatra.”

  He threw back his head and hooted. “Do I get to roll you out in a rug?”

  “And conquer the world?”

  He grasped her hand and pressed it to his heart. “My darling, with you, I could fly to the moon.”

  “Ahem!”

  They both froze and turned toward the sound of footsteps headed past them.

  “Good afternoon, my dears!” Lady Bridgewater, book tucked under one arm, waggled her fingers at them. In the dim candlelight, her smiling face looked like a crinkled parchment with two dashes of rouge. “Do carry on. I am—” She pointed toward the hall. “Leaving.”

  At the click of the doors, Penn put her forehead to his chest and laughed in horror.

  “Look at me, Cleopatra.” He snickered. “I haven’t had such fun in years.”

  She snorted and gave him one gentle kiss as promise for the night to come. “Find a suitable rug, darling.”

  “And when I do?”

  “Rewards await us both after you roll me out!” She waved a hand at him and strode up the staircase, laughing more than she had in years.

  * * *

  One fact he did note as she left him was that for the first time when she walked away from him, she was not running. Nor was she tripping.

  He grinned. An omen, it was, that she was headed in the right direction! Into his arms.

  Chapter 5

  The second their scene of Cleopatra and Caesar ended, Penn picked up her skirts and rushed away. With polite excuses to Theo and then to Gertrude, the countess, she hurried toward her rooms and the only thing she had obsessed about all day long.

  She’d prepared for it, too. Extensively. Early this morning, she’d found Simms in his pantry counting the silver for luncheon and she’d ordered a service of tea for ten o’clock in her rooms. Dear man, as butler, he was honor-bound not to tell anyone she requested a large pot, two cups, a few biscuits and orange marmalade, plus a decanter of brandy and two glasses. A few hours later, she’d feigned a headache and instructed her maid that this evening, she’d have her dress her but not undress her. Her maid raised her eyebrows at that. After all, Penn was never ill and to have a megrim at a h
ouse party—this house party which she always enjoyed immensely—was very odd. But the maid complied with a word that if Penn improved and wished her help, she need only reach for the bell pull.

  She’d sailed down the stairs to the gathering before dinner attired in a gown she’d ordered new for this occasion. Bright pink with an overskirt of white tissue, the satin molded to her breasts. She’d ordered the maid to leave her gown’s laces loose and give her room to breathe. Ease of movement was what she said she wished but ability to get out of her corset and folderol with more facility was what she needed. And she needed all of that. Because simply to gaze upon Theo during any minute of that day had been torture, delight and an unbearable temptation to grab his hand and disappear with him into the bliss of his arms.

  But she’d refrained. She’d been good all day long. Appropriate. Polite to all. A star guest, chatting with all, reminiscing with many about their Christmases past and what the new year would bring now that Bony had gone to St. Helena, forever more. She lunched, she played a set of whist, she took herself off to the library and pretended to read.

  Theo had appeared, winking at her as he strode to the far corner to supposedly search for a book.

  She put a hand to her lips and chuckled to herself. But then she causally pointed toward the far stack where two other guests, both ladies, were rummaging through the shelves for a selection.

  He nodded. After a minute, he approached her. “Find something amusing?”

  “I have,” she said, noting in her own voice a hunger for him and what they would share. “And you?”

  “Most assuredly.” The need in his turquoise eyes sent a flood of hot need through her veins.

  “I count the minutes,” she whispered and knew it was not wise to allow herself that confession.

  “As do I.” He swallowed with difficulty and backed away, polite gentleman that he was.