“I think marriage should be dull.” One where the persons involved did not demand overly much from each other. Certainly no hot passions flaring between them that might lead to heartache and jealousy and who knew what other untidy emotions.
“Is that why you considered Sir Preston? You thought he was dull?” There was a sudden sharpness in Emily’s voice.
“No, of course not. I thought him kind and very interesting. I thought we could be comfortable together. But now I see that was quite wrong of me. He needs someone with whom he can be less comfortable. Besides he was never interested in me in that way at all.”
“It is not wrong of you to consider Lord Salcombe because you can be comfortable with him?”
Perhaps it would be better to still be at odds with Emily if she meant to ask such probing questions. “No, Br…Lord Salcombe and I are in agreement that this is what we both want. A dull, practical marriage.”
“I cannot imagine Lord Salcombe wanting a dull marriage. His nature seems too passionate.”
Certainly, Emily was blunt. “I assure you he is not,” Chloe said.
“Has he kissed you?”
Chloe’s cheeks heated. “Kissing is very dull as well.” This was nothing but a lie. She was relieved to see the drive of Falconcliff. “Can you stay for a bit? The latest Belle Assemblée has just arrived and we could look at the gowns. I saw a morning gown that would be perfect for you.”
“The Belle Assemblée?” Emily wrinkled her nose. “It is the dullest…” She stopped. “I am sorry. Of course I would like to see pages and pages of gowns.”
Chloe laughed, relieved they were off the subject of Brandt. “Please don’t force yourself. We can do something else if you wish such as play billiards,” Chloe suggested. “Sir…someone said you were a very good player.”
“Hardly, but I do enjoy playing.”
“I’m not very good at all.”
Belle was not at all surprised by their desire to play billiards. “Please do so. I must own I rather enjoy it. At least now that I can hit the ball most of the time. Occasionally one goes in the right direction,” she said when they asked her for permission to use the table. She was seated in a chair near the long windows of the library.
Justin looked up from the periodical he had been reading in the chair opposite hers. “I would think that the number of hours I have spent instructing you would have more of an effect.”
“Except that you do not spend much time on instruct—” Belle broke off, her cheeks turning pink.
“Very true.” A look passed between them—one of those looks that filled Chloe with both embarrassment and envy. She looked away, shoving that last thought aside. She certainly did not want anyone looking at her in such a way.
Nor could she imagine what one could possibly do in a billiards room besides play billiards.
Emily was as delighted by the room as she was with the table since it possessed a magnificent view of the sea. Even on overcast days such as today it was possible to see fishing boats and an occasional sailing ship.
While Chloe found the cues, Emily set up the balls with a practised hand.
“Where did you learn to play?” Chloe asked her.
“My aunt and uncle have a table, so when we visit them, Tom asks me to play because he has no one else. When we visited Kentworth Hall…” She stopped and then continued in an off-handed fashion, “We would play. Of course, I will not be doing that now.” She straightened up. “Shall we begin?”
Compared to Emily’s skill, Chloe’s was dismal. Even after Emily’s pointers she still hit few balls. Emily finally announced she must leave, but promised she would give Chloe another lesson soon. Belle insisted on sending a groom to accompany Emily home, despite Emily’s assurances she always rode alone in the neighbourhood.
Chloe, feeling at a loose end, wandered back to the billiard room and picked up a cue. She had watched Justin and Brandt play and it had looked so effortless. She should be able to do the same. Chloe slammed the ball with her cue and then watched as it rolled off the table and towards the door.
“Drat!” She bent down to retrieve it. A pair of dusty masculine boots suddenly appeared in her vision.
“It might help if you hit the ball with less force.”
Her heart thudded to a halt. She looked up and met Brandt’s amused gaze. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“That question could be answered in a number of ways.”
She straightened, ball in hand. “I meant I did not expect to see you. Were you not to be back until tomorrow?”
“I finished my business early.”
“Oh.” She stared at him, unexpectedly glad to see him. He was travel-stained, a slight growth of beard about his mouth, and it occurred to her he had come straight to the billiard room from his journey.
Despite his certain fatigue, he had an air of suppressed excitement about him and a little smile played about his mouth as he looked at her. Again she experienced that odd breathless feeling. His eyes darkened and her heart began to beat most erratically. “Did you come to play billiards?” she blurted out.
“Not quite.” His eyes were still on her face.
“Oh.”
“I came to see you.”
“Did you?” She resisted the urge to back away.
“Yes.” He took a step towards her. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”
“Well, yes. A little.”
“Good. That is at least a beginning.”
“Is it?” Chloe had no idea what he was talking about. She bit her lip. “I…I should put the ball back on the table.” Before she dropped it. Or begged him to kiss her.
Wherever had that thought come from? She scurried to the table and set the ball down. “Emily, that is, Miss Coltrane, was here earlier. She attempted to instruct me in the finer points of billiards, but I fear it did not help one bit. I came back to practise but I still cannot hit anything.” She was chattering.
He had followed her. “I would not say you couldn’t hit anything. You had just hit the ball when I came in.”
“But it is not supposed to fall on the floor.” At least he had lost that intense look that made her feel so light-headed.
“No. I think you might profit from a few more lessons. We can begin tomorrow.” “We?” “Yes. I intend to take over your instruction.” “I would not think you would have the time.” He grinned. “But for you, I do.”
Now she was certain he was teasing her. “Do you not need to attend to your house?”
“Not every minute. I can find time for more pleasurable pursuits.” He leaned against the table. “Such as instructing you.”
“I have no doubt you will be wasting your time. I suspect I will be a most disappointing pupil.” Now they were on familiar ground.
“I doubt it.” He still regarded her with that lazy, slightly amused look that had once annoyed her to no end. Now it merely felt familiar, unlike that intense look of earlier. She did not worry about this Brandt.
“We should probably return upstairs.”
“Probably.” He did not move.
“Do you not need to change your clothing?”
A slight smile touched his mouth. “You are beginning to sound very wifely already.”
“I most certainly am not! If you must know, I do not care a whit about your appearance, I was merely suggesting that you might wish to change before dinner. Not that I care whether you do or not,” she added hastily.
“I am glad to hear that. When we are married, you will not object if I occasionally come to dinner without changing.”
“We are not going to be married.”
“Aren’t we? Then why are we betrothed?”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Did a carriage accident befall you on your journey back to Devon? If you recall, this is a temporary state of affairs so I do not have to marry Lord Denbigh. You quite clearly told me you do not want to be married until you have amassed enough of a fortune to keep a wife. Not that I think that should matter i
n the least!”
“It does to me,” he said quietly. He looked at her. “At any rate, that is no longer a concern.”
Something in his voice gave her pause. “What is not a concern?”
“My fortune.” He smiled slightly. “That was what I came to tell you.”
Her stomach lurched and she felt a sudden rush of fear for him. If he had lost everything after working so hard, she did not think she could bear it.
“My solicitor informed me that due to a number of investments I have made, I am now a very wealthy man. I need no longer worry about whether I have the means to do anything I wish.”
It took a moment for his news to sink in. “Oh! That is absolutely wonderful!” Without thinking she launched herself at him, throwing her arms about his neck. He staggered back a little against the table and then caught her to him, his arms draped loosely about her.
For a moment her cheek pressed against the cloth of his coat and then she suddenly realised what she was doing. She stepped back, completely self-conscious. “I beg your pardon. It was just I had such a dread that you meant to tell me you had lost everything. I did not mean to throw myself at you in such a way.”
An odd little smile played around his mouth. “If I had known such news would bring you rushing into my arms, I would have tried harder to gain a fortune.”
“I did not do that because of your fortune.” He couldn’t possibly think that it was only his wealth that caused such a reaction. She found herself desperately wanting to explain that. “It was only because I was so pleased for you. You will have the funds to restore Waverly the way you want and do anything else you want without worry.”
“Yes.” His eyes were on her face. “And take a wife.”
She forced a smile to her lips. “That as well.” She looked away.
“I do not suppose you would consider the role.”
Her eyes went to his face. “What role?”
“The role of my wife. Would you consider marrying me?”
“I…” She felt as if someone had knocked the breath from her. “Why?”
He moved away from the table. “Why not? I want a wife, and children. You need a husband. I strongly suspect you want children as well. Since we are already betrothed, it seems a logical conclusion. I’ve no doubt the arrangement would benefit both of us. There would be no need to go through the inconvenience of finding other suitable prospects.”
His words were rational, his voice calm as if he were proposing a mere business arrangement. Just the sort of arrangement she wanted for her marriage. Why, then, did she feel so panicked, and disappointed, as if it was not what she wanted at all?
“No, I cannot.” She barely whispered the words.
“Why? Did you not tell me you wanted a sensible, practical marriage? That is what I am offering you.”
“Yes.” But not to you, she wanted to say. She looked at him, the strong planes of his face, the hair curling at the nape of his neck, the strength of his well-formed physique, but most of all his eyes. Emily was right. He was too passionate. He would not be sensible or practical. The way he looked at her, with that intense dark gaze told her that. He would storm her senses.
And her heart.
“Do you recall I said I wanted a comfortable husband? I do not think you would be very comfortable.”
He turned, his arms folded. “Are you certain that is what you want? A comfortable husband?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you not think I would be comfortable?”
“You are not dull enough.” The words came before she could think.
His eyes glinted. “No? I consider that a compliment. I would not want you to think me dull.” He took a step towards her.
“I prefer dull.”
“Do you? What are you afraid of that you need a dull husband?” He took another step.
She backed away, this time finding herself against the billiard table. “Nothing. I thought we agreed that falling in love was very inconvenient.”
His eyes still had that strange glint, as if he was barely holding back some strong emotion. “So you fear you will fall in love with me?”
“That is the last thing I would ever do!”
“Is it?” He moved towards her, so she was completely backed up against the table. His body was only inches from her. “What if I decided to make you fall in love with me?”
“I…I do not think you could do that,” she whispered.
“I consider that a challenge.” He closed the gap between them, his body pressing hers against the table, his hands imprisoning her on either side. Then his mouth found hers, in a hard demanding kiss that left her breathless, demanding her surrender. Her lips parted under his and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, creating sensations that made her head spin. Her legs were trapped between his and she was wholly and completely his prisoner. There was nothing else but him, his mouth moving over hers, his hands, the hardness of his body pressed against hers. Her body seemed to be on fire, a warmth growing in her abdomen making her want more than just kisses. Somehow she was half on the table, and he was leaning over her, her hands clinging to his shoulders, her skirts tangled about her legs. His hand was stroking her, her breasts, her belly and then his hand was beneath her skirts, moving up her leg. She panicked then, a little gasp of fear escaping her.
He released her suddenly as if a bucket of water had been thrown on them. Her eyes flew open in time to watch his expression change to one of pure shock. He backed away from her. “Chloe,” he whispered.
She straightened, hardly knowing what had happened, as with trembling hands she pulled down her skirt.
His eyes were on her. “Did I hurt you?” He looked almost sick.
“No.” She turned away. “Not really.” Except the worn fabric of her gown had torn where the bodice joined the skirt. She was completely confused by her reaction at both wanting and fearing what he had been doing—what they had been doing.
“I did,” he said flatly. “I beg your pardon. I did not mean…” He paced away from her. “I vow I will never touch you again. Not like that.”
She looked up in time to see the anguish on his face. “You did not hurt me,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
“I could have,” he said in a low voice. “You are right, we are not suited. I will release you from this betrothal as soon as I can do so without creating more gossip and speculation than necessary.”
He spoke in the same low, impassioned voice. She had never seen him like this, as if all his defences had fallen away. He looked as if he was in the worst agony and she had no idea why.
“What is wrong?” she asked.
“Wrong?” He gave a short laugh. “Nothing, except that because I was angry I nearly seduced you. It was no better than an act of rape.”
“But you did not seduce me. You stopped.”
“It does not matter. I forced you.”
“You did not. It was not…” like the other time. The words stuck in her throat.
She took a step towards him, but he seemed to recoil, his expression now shuttered. “You ought to return to your room and change,” he said.
“Brandt…”
“I suggest we avoid each other as much as possible.” He did not look at her.
There seemed to be nothing else she could say. “Very well.” She started towards the door and then stopped and looked back at him. He was staring out of the window at the sea. “Goodbye.”
She could not tell if he even heard her.
—
Chloe had wanted to escape to her room, but she met Justin on the stairs. If she had hoped to hide her dishevelled state from him, one look at his face told her it was impossible. His gaze went briefly to where her hand held her bodice together. “What happened?”
“I…I had an accident.” She tried to meet his eyes. “It is nothing.”
“Your gown is ripped.”
“Yes.” She started to move past him. “I must change.”
He
caught her arm, his touch light, but she had no doubt he did not mean to let her go until he had an explanation. “Were you with Brandt?” he asked carefully. “Belle sent him to find you in the billiard room.”
She bit her lip. “Yes, but this has nothing to do with him.”
She was a miserable liar. Justin’s face changed. “What did he do?”
“He did nothing. Please, do not ask me any more.”
“He is my cousin, but I consider you my relation as well. You are a guest under my roof and therefore under my protection. I will not allow you to be distressed or abused in any fashion. Go to your chamber. I will send Belle to speak to you. I am going to seek out my cousin.”
“That is not necessary.” Brandt spoke from below.
Chloe’s gaze flew to his face, but he was not looking at her. He had that same closed expression and nothing about him told her he knew she was even there.
“I wish to speak to you,” Justin said.
Brandt inclined his head slightly. “Of course.”
They might have been strangers instead of cousins closer than brothers. She caught Justin’s arm. “Please. He did nothing more than…than kiss me.” She had no idea if Justin had heard. With a sick feeling, she turned, started up the steps, and prayed things would not get any worse.
—
Brandt followed his cousin into his panelled study. He felt curiously numb, as if he were observing himself from outside. When Justin turned and faced him, he waited for the verdict to fall.
“What happened? Chloe assures me nothing, that her ripped gown and dishevelled appearance was an accident, but I find that difficult to believe. She has all the appearance of a woman who has been ravished. Or nearly so.”
Brandt met his cousin’s eyes. “I did not ravish her but I might as well have.” He would never forget the little sound she made and the confused, frightened look on her face when he let her go. It was her bewilderment afterwards, as if she could not comprehend what had happened, which sickened him most.
“Why?”
“Because I forced myself on her. I asked her to marry me and when she turned me down and told me that she would never fall in love with me, I lost my head. I suppose I had some damnable notion of proving her wrong. I kissed her, but it was not a pleasant kiss. Not the sort of kiss you give a young and inexperienced girl.”
The Viscount's Bride Page 15
