The Kiss of Love (The Book of Love 6)

by Meara Platt

  She raised her head to look up at him. “What do you feel when you touch me?”

  His arm tightened around her. “Something beyond my low brain urge to mate. That urge is always lurking beneath the surface, of course. You know, burning desire. Fiery torment. You touch me, and I burst into flames.”

  She grinned up at him. “You hide it very well. Seriously, I couldn’t tell.”

  “That’s because I try not to show it when we’re among others. I try not to show it when alone with you, because you’ve always been more than a mere lusting game for me.”

  She arched her eyebrow in that impudent way he thought charming. Honey had a compassionate soul, but she also had that tinge of fire to her hair and an impish bit of the devil in her that made her always interesting. “What are you saying? That you’d never abandon me to be eaten by wolves?”

  “Never. If you feel safe and protected, it is because you are. That urge to guard you, to watch over you like a protective wolf, is ingrained in my heart. I’ve told you from the start, you aren’t a dalliance for me. I knew it at first glance.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “What confuses me is how I would know this before we’d ever exchanged words. I suppose this is the importance of not rushing into anything. What seems perfect might not be. This is what I feared for Anne when she and Malcolm rushed into their commitment. But these past few days have shown me that my gut instinct was right about you. So, moving beyond my lower brain desires, when I’m with you, I feel as though you are that missing part of me. A part that makes me a better person than I am on my own. I know whatever problems I face will be conquered because I have you by my side. How’s that for honesty?”

  “Quite perfect. This book wreaks havoc on one’s emotions, doesn’t it?”

  “It merely draws them out, makes you face what you are feeling without blinders on. I think it shows you how all these senses are connected. Taste, touch, sight, and so on. They enhance one’s understanding of love, but only if we’re ready to accept the truth.”

  “And when we’re not, the example is in Wellington’s love gone wrong?”

  He nodded. “The same could be said of Lord Wrexham fawning over Lady Sarah. He’s playing with fire and will be badly scorched if he doesn’t open his eyes to her faults.”

  “Maybe he’s pretending and is only after her father’s wealth. You did say there were several fortune hunters among the party.”

  “Wrexham isn’t in dire straits. Perhaps he likes to live dangerously. As for me, I prefer to keep the chaos out of my home.”

  She laughed. “Then the last thing you want is to attach yourself to a Farthingale. We travel in massive herds, like beasts migrating along the Serengeti plains. Except we migrate to London from all over England. Oxfordshire, Yorkshire, Devonshire.”

  He chuckled.

  “I don’t know how Uncle John and Aunt Sophie haven’t gone insane hosting all of us throughout the years. We attract trouble. You saw what happened to Finn. He was in Lady Dayne’s garden, minding his own business one moment, and in the next, he was struck down by my sister. Same for his cousin, Romulus. He simply walked by to check on his new house, heard a scream, and ran into a wall of bees and Violet.”

  “They’ve adapted quite well to marriage.”

  She laughed. “Fortunately. My point is, forget about peace and quiet. It does not exist in a Farthingale household. Plus, we meddle in everyone’s business.”

  “There’s a difference. Your family chaos arises out of love. That’s an important distinction.” He closed the book when he noticed Honey stifling a yawn. “I see that I am boring you,” he teased. “It’s late. Let me take you upstairs. To your quarters. I won’t go in. We know it’s too dangerous to be anywhere near you in a room with a bed.”

  She nodded. “I am tired. It has been a long day.”

  “We’ll read more about the wonder of love tomorrow.” He’d scanned a few pages ahead and knew the next chapters dug beyond the five senses, discussing how shared connections and expectations kept love strong and ever-building.

  Surprisingly, he seemed to be more intrigued by this book than Honey was. Perhaps it was because of his experience with women. He’d come across so many and had so many thrust at him that to suddenly meet the one who felt so right when all others had felt so wrong…it was something precious that he needed to pursue.

  He did not want to make a misstep and destroy what could be the best thing ever to happen to him.

  He took her hand, once more amazed by how soft and right it felt in his. He held a candle in his other hand as they quietly climbed the stairs together. He saw himself doing just this, night after night, as they retired to bed as husband and wife.

  Not a single pang of fear shot through him.

  It was surprising how little he dreaded a lifetime commitment with this girl. How could he let Honey go once the party was over? She was making him wait to learn her secret, but it seemed to him, waiting would only make matters worse. If her fears came to pass and it was something that prevented him from marrying her, then prolonging the silence would break both their hearts.

  Him? Heartbroken? After an acquaintance of only two days?

  Was it possible for love to take root so deeply in that short a time?

  “Oh, no!” Honey’s whispered cry shook him out of his thoughts. They’d reached her door and it was open. He knew they’d shut it before going downstairs.

  What new mischief was this?

  He handed her the book and nudged her behind him. “Let me go in first. Stay out here until I know it’s safe.”

  Bollocks.

  He held up the candle and stepped inside. His eyes had adjusted sufficiently to the dim glow of candlelight that he would notice any moving shadows. But there were none. He crossed to her bureau and set the candle atop it, then began to look around. “Lord Almighty.”

  The wardrobe doors were flung open, and someone had taken a scissor to two of Honey’s gowns. His first thought was relief Honey had been in the library with him and not in here. Otherwise, the intruder might have taken the scissors to her.

  He shuddered.

  This sweet, precious girl might have been cut to ribbons, just as the perpetrator had done with these gowns.

  “Tom, what’s wrong?” Honey came up behind him, realized what had happened, and flew into his outstretched arms. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

  He cupped her face as she began to tremble. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think it was Lady Sarah? Is it possible she’s that cruel?”

  “Until this moment, I didn’t think so. But how well can we know what lies in anyone’s heart when seeing them only occasionally over the years? She is the likely suspect, isn’t she? I’ve had one of my staff keep an eye on her. Simon will know if she’s left her chamber.”

  “She might have slipped out through the servants’ staircase.”

  “No, there’s no secret panel or staircase in her room. She would have had to walk out into the hallway.”

  He held her in his arms a moment longer before releasing her to draw her a chair. “Let me talk to him. He’s just down the hall. Just give me a minute. Don’t leave here. I’ll be right back.”

  Simon was one of his most capable and trusted footmen. There was no question he would remain awake and alert while standing guard at the other end of the hallway. But Tom’s mind was reeling. Petty behavior was one thing, and Sarah was certainly capable of that. But to destroy someone’s clothing? To him, that spoke of rot within one’s heart.

  The man was surprised to see him. “M’lord? Is something wrong?”

  Tom nodded. “Yes, Simon. Very. Has Lady Sarah left her quarters this evening?”

  “No. Nor have her two friends.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  Tom raked a hand through his hair. “Have you seen anyone walk out from a bedchamber at this end of the hall? Or heard noises from anyone’s room?”

/>   “No one walked out, although several gents were popping into the rooms of some of your lady guests. They didn’t see me. I stayed in the shadows. As for noise…” Simon blushed. “None other than the sort one would expect when a gent goes into a lady’s room in the dead of night.”

  “Damn. Thank you, Simon. Keep a close watch. Someone broke into Miss Farthingale’s room and slashed her gowns. This is serious. She might have been injured.”

  His eyes widened. “I’ll keep alert, so you needn’t worry. I’ll notify your lordship if I see or hear anything more.”

  Tom strode back to Honey’s room, trying to piece it all together. If no one had come down from the other end of the hall, then that only left the few rooms near his end. Nathaniel and Poppy’s. Lavinia’s. Pip’s. His mother’s quarters. Honey’s guestroom. But Honey had been with him all the while, and her gowns had been fine then.

  When he returned to her a short while later, he saw that her eyes were still wide with fright, and her face was ashen. He took her into his arms again. “We’ll find the culprit, I promise you. Hush, Honey,” he said when he saw a lone tear stream down her cheek. “I’ll wake Mrs. Finch. She’ll have Lottie clean up the damage and stay with you tonight.”

  She nodded.

  He wished he could stay with her, but there would be no escaping her ruin if he were found here in the morning. It wouldn’t matter the reason or the crime. Besides, he had investigating to do.

  She cast him a mirthless smile. “What do we now? Who else could it have been but Lady Sarah?”

  “She is the likely suspect, but Simon saw no one leave or enter her bedchamber. I doubt she climbed out through her window in the midst of a storm and somehow managed to break in downstairs then steal into your room. Nor could she have climbed from the outside up into here. Your window hasn’t been touched, and there’s no rain spatter inside.”

  “But if not her or her friends, who else would it be?”

  “No one in their right mind, that’s for sure.”

  He’d tugged the bellpull to summon Mrs. Finch, but expected she’d take a few moments to dress and run up here. As they waited in silence, he heard a commotion in his mother’s bedchamber next door. By Honey’s expression, he knew she was thinking the same thing he was—that someone had now broken into his mother’s quarters, too. “Stay here.”

  “I’m coming with you. Your mother and Dora are in their nightclothes. You can’t just burst in. But I can.” She darted in front of him before he could stop her and ran next door.

  She put her ear to the door for just a moment and then hurried in. Tom was right behind her. But the sight stopped them both in their tracks. “Oh, bollocks. Bloody, bloody, bollocks.”

  Pain tore through him. “Honey, I’m sorry,” he said in a ragged whisper.

  She took his hand. “It isn’t your fault.”

  Of course it was. It had to be. His mother was sitting with scissors on her lap. Scraps of Honey’s two gowns had been ripped apart and were strewn across her bed. She was quietly humming to herself as she moved them around, turning them this way and that. A sewing basket was at the foot of her bed. She seemed to be making a patchwork quilt or something of the sort.

  Dora had fallen asleep in a chair while the maid he’d assigned to watch his mother was stretched out in front of the fireplace hearth, curled up in a blanket.

  Rage built up inside of him.

  Honey would not release his hand. “Isn’t it obvious what happened?” she said in a whisper. “Dora and your maid are taking turns sitting up through the night. It was Dora’s turn, and she fell asleep. I think you need two maids on rotation in the evening. Dora is getting too feeble. And you can’t expect the poor maid,” she said, motioning to the sleeping girl, “to work all day and stay up all night.”

  “Damn it, Honey,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “They should have been watching her.”

  “I know. But right now, I’m more relieved that we don’t have a deranged duke’s daughter on our hands. Poor Lady Sarah. Now I wonder if she had anything to do with The Book of Love going missing. I hate to think we might have falsely accused her.”

  She went to his mother’s side and sat on the bed next to her. “What a pretty thing you’re making, Lady Wycke.”

  His mother smiled and set aside the scissors while she showed Honey the pretty patches. Honey smoothly took the scissors and handed them to him. They were big, sharp. Able to do harm if used as a weapon. Not that his mother would ever knowingly harm anyone. But she was in her state of unknowing right now.

  She might be capable of anything.

  Would she remember any of this come morning?

  “See the pretty colors?” she asked Honey.

  “Yes, they are quite beautiful. But it’s late, Lady Wycke. Are you not tired? What if I put these pretty patches in your sewing basket, and you can show them to Dora tomorrow morning? You ought to rest now.”

  His mother allowed her to set the squares of her torn gowns in the basket. “I can’t sleep yet. I’m waiting for my Tom. He must be looking upon the children. He dotes on them, you know.”

  Honey glanced at him. “Yes, they are lovely children. I’m sure they love you both very much.”

  His mother frowned and began to look around worriedly. “Where’s my Tom?”

  Tom inhaled sharply and then let out his breath in a groan of despair. She was thinking of his father again. The rage washed out of him. He swallowed hard, uncertain he was able to speak for the ache that tore through him. Finally, he stepped forward. “I’m right here, my darling. Go to sleep now. You must be very tired.”

  “Oh, Tom. There you are. Where have you been?” She didn’t await his answer, not that he was capable of saying anything more at the moment, and curled up in her bed. Within a matter of minutes, she’d fallen sound asleep.

  Honey gently woke the sleeping maid and showed her that Dora was not watching his mother. The maid was horrified. “Miss Farthingale, I didn’t realize. She assured me we could switch on and off.”

  “I know. Dora isn’t up to the task. I think Lord Wycke will need to add staff to attend to both of them.”

  The maid blanched when she realized he was also in the room. He sighed. “It’s all right, Glenna. But as Miss Farthingale said, this duty is more than just one person can handle. I’ll have Mrs. Finch send up someone to assist you. While you both were sleeping, my mother left her room and damaged two of Miss Farthingale’s gowns. You’ll find scraps of them in her sewing basket. Someone must always remain awake in here. She cannot go wandering about the house when she slips into her…condition.”

  They waited for Mrs. Finch to join them, told her the problem, and then it was decided to leave all as it was until the morning. Honey refused the need for a maid in her room. “Lottie will take care of the damage in the morning. We’re sorry we troubled you, Mrs. Finch.”

  “Not at all, Miss Farthingale. You must have been quite alarmed.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’ll put my best girls on rotation in here going forward.”

  Once everyone had left his mother’s quarters, and only he and Honey remained in the hall, she took his hand and quietly led him into her room. He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. This was getting to be an unpleasant routine. “I don’t know what to say other than to repeat how sorry I am. There’s no question I’ll replace the gowns.”

  She took the chair beside him. “Look on the bright side. We don’t have a mad debutante on the loose within Halford Grange.”

  “No, this is far worse. What if my mother had come in here and you’d been in bed? What if you awoke and startled her? She might have come at you with those scissors.”

  “Tom, I truly doubt it. She’s a gentle soul.”

  He dropped his hands and looked at her, so many horrible thoughts whirling in his head at once. “She was a gentle soul. I don’t know what she is anymore.”

  “She’s still the woman who has loved you all her life,” Honey said, her
hands clasped on her lap.

  He wanted to hold her, to touch her, but his mind was in no state to keep him behaving like a gentleman. The last thing he wanted to do was pour his rage and frustration into his kisses, although he sorely needed to kiss Honey just now.

  She drew away slightly, no doubt sensing the maelstrom whirling inside him and not wishing to be the recipient of whatever was unleashed. He didn’t like to think he’d ever hurt her, but any kiss he gave her now would be rough and demanding against her soft lips. “Will you be all right if I leave you now?”

  He was afraid to stay longer. This mix of hot desire and bubbling anger was not anything he’d ever felt before. In truth, he’d never felt less in control in his life.

  Honey rose along with him and put a hand on his arm. “Will you be all right if you leave now?”

  He stared at her hand with such intensity as it rested on his forearm, she quickly drew it away. He laughed bitterly and strode off, for her own sake. Her calm compassion was not what he needed right now. He needed to pound something. It certainly would not be him pounding his body into her innocent flesh.

  But damn it to bits, he could not seek his pleasure elsewhere. He was not so far gone as to be ignorant of the repercussions of taking another woman to his bed. Not that he wanted anyone but Honey, and to hell with her damn secret that was preventing them from moving forward.

  Why did he need to wait a moment longer to hear it?

  How much worse could it be than what she’d seen of his family tonight?

  Chapter Ten

  Honey’s fingers were shaking as she tried to undo the ties of her gown but couldn’t seem to manage them all. Sighing, she gave up and decided to simply wear her half-laced gown to sleep. Lottie would freshen it and press the wrinkles out of it tomorrow.