Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Is it? I’m not so certain.’

  ‘I might be a bit longer in tooth than you are, Lucy but I am not entirely blind. It is obvious to me that you love Christopher.’

  Lucy could no longer evade the truth. For all her pretended indifference, even the most mindless person could deduce she was utterly and completely and hopelessly in love with Christopher Wilding.

  ‘Yes—I do love him.’

  Lady Sutton tilted her head to a puzzled angle. ‘Then why did you not give him an answer?’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘Because I’m not sure of his intentions. Because of what happened I don’t want him to feel obligated to marry me and I fear he might come to regret his impulsive proposal.’

  ‘Impulsive? He’s had a whole year to think about it. It’s evident that he is a gentleman who appreciates having to fight for what he desires, and, my dear Lucy, it is evident that he very much desires you.’

  Lucy’s heart gave a powerful jolt. ‘His desire for me is something I have never doubted, but it is not his desire that I want, it is his heart that I seek.’

  Lady Sutton gave a slow nod of her head. ‘Ah—I see. Well—this is all so sudden. Of course I had hoped that you would have had more time to enjoy what is left of the Season which so many other girls enjoy and, perhaps, consider more proposals and be courted. But none will come with a higher title than Viscount Rockley’s.’

  ‘I’m not interested in titles, Aunt Caroline—only the man.’

  * * *

  After Lucy’s first appearance in society, the house on Curzon Street was deluged with callers and there followed an intense three days of social functions. Escorted to all the stylish gatherings by Lady Sutton, Lucy’s popularity had increased considerably and she found herself revelling in the fun of it. But the period between the ball and the trip on river was also a time of serious deliberation and heart searching before deciding that, for better or worse, she would become Christopher’s wife. Unable to come to a decision and reluctant to face him again until she was more certain of herself, she tried to find an excuse to get out of the excursion on the river, but Aunt Caroline would not hear of it. The more Lucy was seen in the company of Viscount Rockley the better.

  * * *

  The morning of the excursion dawned sunny and warm—perfect conditions for a trip to the river, Lady Sutton proclaimed, before taking to her bed with a raging headache. Lucy was all concern, telling her she would send a note of apology to Christopher’s address. They would have to turn down the invitation. But Aunt Caroline, determined not to disappoint Amelia, wouldn’t hear of it and was adamant that Lucy should go. Besides, a picnic basket had been prepared. It would be silly to waste it. Lucy had no time to argue for Christopher and Amelia arrived, Christopher looking very elegant in his dark blue coat and matching waistcoat and Amelia looking summery in a lemon dress trimmed with white lace.

  ‘I’m afraid Aunt Caroline isn’t very well—she has developed a headache and taken to her bed.’ She smiled weakly at them both. ‘It looks as though I will have to forgo the trip on the river and a picnic.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Amelia said, frowning with concern. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

  ‘No, thank you, Amelia. She has taken to her bed, I’m afraid. She might feel better when she’s had a sleep. I think I should stay with her. Besides, I hate to intrude on your day out.’

  A sudden gleam entered Christopher’s eyes. ‘You aren’t. We wouldn’t have invited you if we thought that. Besides, the food is prepared. It would be a shame to waste it.’

  Lucy felt her cheeks warm. ‘But—I have no wish to impose on your time.’

  His smile broadened into a grin. ‘It’s no imposition. We insist you come with us. Is that not so, Amelia?’

  ‘Yes. We insist.’

  ‘Good. Now that is settled, fetch your cloak. It might be cool on the river. I cannot tell you how much pleasure it will give me having two beautiful young ladies to escort.’

  Lucy searched his bold visage. ‘Your persistence really does amaze me, Christopher. I’m only thankful that Amelia didn’t go down with something that would have caused her to cancel her presence on the outing.’

  He chuckled, smiling a wicked smile. ‘Why? We might both have enjoyed the outing. However, I promise to be on my best behaviour and as charming as my nature will allow.’

  Lucy cast Amelia a smile. ‘We shall see, won’t we, Amelia?’

  ‘We certainly will. It should prove to be an interesting afternoon.’

  ‘It will be what we make it,’ Christopher said. ‘Now come along. We are wasting time.’

  The housekeeper appeared carrying the picnic basket and handed it to Lucy, happy that all the work she’d put into it wouldn’t be wasted after all. Seated in the Wilding carriage, with its grey upholstery and the hood down, Lucy experienced a strange exhilaration as they headed for the river.

  * * *

  When they reached the river they left the driver with the carriage to while away the afternoon. Christopher hired a boat and helped Lucy and Amelia in. There was a slight breeze and the water lapped the sides of the boat, but fortunately it was warm and Lucy decided against her cloak. Then he picked up the oars and they were away, moving at a steady speed. They were soon past the Tower of London and on their way to Greenwich.

  The rippling silvered river was busy with every kind of craft—ferries, lightermen and a string of barges heading upstream, the movement keeping the water constantly on the swell. There were lots of people in pleasure boats, all enjoying the warm weather, laughing and calling to each other. Amelia’s mood was carefree and she joined in the fun, waving happily to others when they waved to them.

  Lucy watched Christopher, impressed how easy rowing a boat was for him. ‘I imagine you must feel quite at home on the water, Christopher.’

  ‘Can you smell it?’

  ‘What?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘The salt on the incoming tide.’

  Breathing deep, Lucy could detect a tang on the air—the smell of salt and what she thought might be tar. When Lucy looked at Christopher she saw he was watching them both, a smile curving his lips.

  ‘What is it that makes you smile?’

  ‘I was thinking how adorable you both are, with your pink cheeks and shining eyes. You put me in mind of two children opening their presents at Christmas. Are you enjoying yourselves?’

  ‘I am most certainly,’ Lucy replied.

  ‘And are you glad you came?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve never been on the river before.’

  ‘It will be quieter at Greenwich—the perfect place for a picnic.’

  The boat drew up at some stairs. Christopher climbed out and secured it, before helping his companions out. Carrying the picnic baskets and rug, they climbed the embankment and eventually found a secluded place beneath some tall trees and not far from the water’s edge. Here the quietness could not be denied. The breeze was fresh, but seasonably warm, rustling the leaves in the trees and dappling the shade.

  Christopher spread out the rug and settled on it, his back propped against a tree, content to watch as Lucy and Amelia busied themselves emptying the baskets of food and wine. Totally relaxed, they talked and laughed easily together, and watched the world sail by, and all the while Lucy was aware of Christopher’s appreciative gaze on her animated face.

  In all it proved to be an enchanting afternoon and Lucy experienced a twinge of regret that it would have to end.

  When some ducks left the bankside and waded into the water, half a dozen ducklings following in their wake, Amelia couldn’t resist taking some leftover bread to feed them, walking away from Lucy and Christopher.

  ‘She looks quite radiant,’ Lucy commented softly, resting on her knees. ‘I can’t believe she is the same young woman I saw at Rockwood Park.’

  Stretching out on his side,
Christopher leaned on a forearm and studied her profile from beneath hooded lids. ‘You are a strange young woman, Lucy Walsh,’ he murmured, focusing his eyes on a wisp of hair against her cheek.

  Without thinking, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear, feeling the velvety softness of her skin against his fingers. She did not move away as he ran the tip of his finger down the column of her throat, along the line of her chin to her collar and the cameo brooch at her throat.

  ‘You are a fascinating young woman, Lucy. I find myself wanting to know everything there is to know about you.’

  ‘You already know a great deal about me—more than anyone else.’

  ‘I have learned some things, I grant you. I have also realised since we kissed at the ball that you have matured into a lovely young woman. There is little sign of the schoolgirl I met at the fair—or the young lady I kissed and who returned my kiss with such fervour before you left for France.’

  ‘Christopher, please!’ Resting back on her heels, Lucy gave him a reproachful look. ‘Stop it now,’ she retorted, her face heating. ‘That was a year ago. We neither of us are the same people.’

  ‘No? Are you saying that you didn’t enjoy kissing me?’ He reached into the basket for an iced cake and slowly began to eat.’

  ‘No—yes... Oh, behave yourself. I was hoping you would.’

  Christopher was by no means done with her yet. He grinned. ‘Have you kissed anyone else while you have been away? They say the Italians are a passionate race—that few ladies can resist their charms.’

  Lucy’s cheeks flamed with indignation. ‘No—and if I had it is none of your business. Now will you please stop tormenting me about my—slip of propriety when I let you kiss me.’

  His grin widened at her embarrassment, then he gave a shout of laughter. ‘I like reminding you. I enjoy seeing you get all flushed and flustered and hot under the collar.’

  She glowered at him. ‘Will you please stop making fun of me? Amelia will notice and wonder what we are talking about.’

  ‘I know—but I doubt she will be shocked. I have a feeling that she knows how I feel about you and is tactfully keeping out of the way—hence her sudden desire to feed the ducks.’

  Unable to stay cross with him—knowing he was teasing anyway—Lucy laughed, waving to Amelia who had heard her brother’s loud laughter and was looking their way as she continued to throw bread for the gathering, greedy ducks.

  Christopher lay back, linking his hands behind his head and looking up at the trees. ‘I like to hear you laugh, Lucy. I’m happy that you still can. You have a beautiful laugh.’

  Hearing the sensuous huskiness that deepened his voice, Lucy could feel her pulse increase its beat. ‘You are only saying that to placate me.’

  ‘Do you need placating?’

  She sighed, shifting her position and wrapping her arms round her drawn-up knees. ‘No. I’m having too nice a time to be cross.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’

  When he closed his eyes, Lucy let her gaze wander over the smooth, thick lock of hair that dipped over his brow and the authority and strength in every line of his handsome face. She let her gaze travel the full length of the superbly fit, muscled body stretched out beside her. How well she remembered being held in his arms, how he had exuded raw power and a potent virility that had held her in thrall.

  As if he could feel her eyes studying him, without opening his eyes, he quirked the mobile line of his mouth in a half-smile. ‘I hope you like what you see.’ He sighed. ‘You can kiss me if you want to, Lucy.’

  Lucy’s eyes opened wide in astonishment, then she laughed. ‘I really cannot believe your arrogance, Christopher. I most certainly will not,’ she objected, slapping him playfully on the chest with her napkin.

  With no warning he reared up. His hands shot out and, gripping her upper arms, he pulled her down on to her back. ‘If you won’t kiss me, do you mind if I kiss you?’ His voice was low pitched and sensual, his face only inches from her own.

  ‘Yes, I do, now—please stop it. Amelia will see. What will she think?’

  ‘She’s too busy feeding the ducks to notice.’ He smiled, then, and it was a wonderful smile, the kind of smile that would melt any woman’s heart. It curled beautifully on those chiselled lips and his silver eyes were full of amusement as he gazed down at her. ‘Are you not curious to find out if it will be as good as when I kissed you at the ball?’ His heavy-lidded gaze dropped to the inviting fullness of her lips, lingering there. ‘Have I told you how much I’ve missed you, Lucy?’

  ‘No, I don’t believe you have. Should I believe you?’

  He did not even blink at her sceptical look. ‘I speak truly, for the year has dragged by. It was cruel to keep me on tenterhooks for twelve whole months and I was beginning to lose hope of you ever coming back.’

  ‘It was never my intent to cause you such suspense,’ she countered. ‘It was you who told me to go away and enjoy myself and partake of all the pleasures Europe had to offer—which I did, by the way, to the full.’

  ‘Yes, I did and I soon came to regret it. Sometimes things happen at the wrong time, Lucy. That was the wrong time for us. But words cannot express how happy I was to see you returned.’

  ‘Happy?’ she countered. ‘I was hoping your feelings would take on a different direction—toward futility rather than happiness since you couldn’t wait for me to be gone.’

  ‘Not at all. I really have missed you and I aim to convince you that I shall live for any favour and attention you care to cast my way.’

  Lucy wriggled to sit up, forcing him to roll away from her. ‘Will you please stop this, Christopher? Your compliments and lavish expressions of sentiment fall on deaf ears.’

  ‘They do?’ he said, sitting close beside her and absently trailing his finger over her wrist. ‘And why is that, pray?’

  ‘Because it smacks of insincerity—and it’s unlike you and flowery speeches don’t suit you.’

  ‘I am being honest—and I have often complimented you on your lovely eyes and beautiful face in the past. I suppose hundreds have told you how beautiful you are on your travels.’

  ‘I never believed them. I keep remembering that naive young girl fresh out of the academy.’

  ‘You were beautiful then. You were the most captivating young woman I had ever seen, gentle and graceful and totally unaware of your beauty.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘You’re even lovelier.’

  ‘You just want to marry me,’ she accused lightly.

  ‘That’s true. I remember how pleasurable it was to dance with you, how warm your skin was to the touch and how adorable you looked when you blushed—how sweet your lips.’

  Lucy rolled her eyes and began picking up the remains of their picnic and placing them in the baskets. ‘Oh, please, Christopher, do not disappoint me by resorting to flattery, for I know very well what I look like.’

  He chuckled. ‘Dear Lord, Lucy! Will nothing I say please you? A man tries to be polite and complementary and gets told off for it. But I cannot forget you are female.’

  ‘Will you please stop this? You are talking nonsense. You will make me cross when I don’t want to be.’

  ‘This,’ he said with mock indignation, ‘from the woman who threw a napkin at me is cross? I do not believe it. I am the injured party.’

  ‘I did not throw it, I hit you with it,’ she reminded him. ‘You deserved it. Now see—Amelia is coming back so behave yourself and make yourself useful.’ She paused and looked at him, holding his gaze and allowing a smile to curve her lips. ‘Did I really blush?’

  ‘Delightfully so.’

  ‘How embarrassing.’ Her smile broadened. ‘Thank you, Christopher, for inviting me today. I’ve had a lovely day. Truly. I don’t know how to thank you.’

  His heavy-lidded gaze fixed meaningfully on her lips. A
dangerous light entered his eyes and a smile tempted his lips. His voice was low with a husky rasp. ‘How about agreeing to be my wife?’

  ‘Not yet. I would like to give your proposal serious consideration,’ she said, folding a tablecloth and placing it in the basket.

  ‘Keep me dangling, more like—and enjoying every minute of it.’

  ‘It serves you right for sending me away.’

  ‘It was necessary at the time, you know that. Have you any objections to me as a husband?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  Placing his hand under her chin, he tilted her to face to his, wanting more than anything else to eradicate the hesitation he saw in her eyes. ‘I have never asked any woman to marry me before. I’ve had mistresses, yes—but it is you that I offer marriage to. No other woman has been able to get that close. What I know is that when you were away from me you were never far from my deepest thoughts. You suit me better than any woman I have ever known. You amuse, delight and frustrate me to the point where I don’t know whether to throttle you or make love to you. You test my patience and my sanity beyond the limits of my endurance. And yet, despite all this, I still want you for my wife. Will you do me the honour of accepting my proposal—and become my wife?’

  ‘I—I would like a little more time.’

  ‘Of course, but don’t take too long thinking about,’ he murmured softly. ‘I’m not noted for my patience.’

  Lucy looked directly into his face, feeling herself respond to the dark intimacy in his voice. His expression was gentle, understanding and soft. And there, plain for her to see, was the sincerity of his words. ‘Have you told Amelia?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not yet. I’ll do that when I have good news to impart.’

  ‘And you’re sure there will be?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Has it not entered that arrogant head of yours that I might refuse to marry you?’

  Christopher looked at her for a long moment with those magnificent silver-grey eyes, then he smiled. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he told her.