The Danice Allen Anthology

by Danice Allen

  The aunts withdrew to hover in the hall to await the young people’s emergence from the parlor, anxious to detect from the expressions on their faces whether or not to wish them joy or to give Ninian a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he left in a state of abject misery. Showing, by the aunts’ estimation, a strange lack of interest in the affair, Julian retired to the library for a glass of brandy and a warm seat by the fire. He did, however, leave instructions with Hedley to send Sam to him the minute she was no longer busy with her beau.

  Julian had been sitting thusly for several minutes when the laughter in the parlor finally quieted, followed by the sound of the front door closing, followed by a commotion in the hall while the aunts demanded details and explanations of the would-be lover’s interview with Sam, followed by Sam, herself, slipping through the library door and softly closing it behind her.

  It was dusk, and the library was dark except for a single candle on the table at Julian’s elbow and the soft circle of firelight that encompassed a small area that included his chair and a patch of rosy paneling behind him. The air smelled of hickory and cigar smoke, old leather-bound books, and the lemon oil the servants used on the furniture and walls.

  To Julian, it was a comfortable, comforting room. Very male. A sanctuary. But now, the minute Sam had stepped inside his sanctuary, the air was fraught with a sort of titillating tension, and a new scent—that lilac fragrance he’d detected in her hair when he’d carried her up the stairs, and when he’d kissed her—mingled with the other scents in the room, and suddenly there was a feminine influence in the air. The effect was seductive and … disturbing.

  Striving to overcome his initial reaction to Sam’s appearance, Julian said in his usual sardonic manner, “So, brat, you have got your first proposal.”

  Sam, who had been silently standing in the dark near the door till Julian spoke, glided across the room and stood in front of the fire, facing out. She was dressed all in white, and the light of the small, embering fire behind her made her appear as though she were surrounded by a nimbus of soft, shimmering gold. She looked like an angel.

  “It wasn’t my first proposal, Julian,” she answered softly, her face shadowed, and her expression, therefore, a mystery.

  “It wasn’t?” he said gruffly. “What other men have bypassed my authority in this matter and addressed you without asking permission?”

  He wasn’t sure, but he thought she shrugged. A slight, tantalizing roll of her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. I refused them, of course.”

  “And did you refuse Ninian, too?”

  “Of course. I couldn’t possibly marry a man I don’t love with my whole heart.”

  “I thought you’d changed your mind about such romantic notions?”

  “I wanted you to think so. I thought it was your wish.” There was a pause. “And you do know how very much I try to please you.”

  Julian snorted. “And your visit to my ex-mistress was an example of this desire you have to please me?”

  He’d meant it as a joke, but she didn’t laugh. There was complete silence in the room except for the soft crackles and hisses of the fire.

  “I’m only teasing you, Sam,” Julian said in a conciliatory tone. “I don’t want us to quarrel about that episode any longer. I trust you learned your lesson and—”

  “She’s your ex-mistress?” Sam interrupted.

  Julian felt a moment’s confusion. Why had he let that bit of information slip? “Er … yes. But that’s not a material point in this discussion. As I was saying, I trust you’ve learned your—”

  “As you know, I’m a good student, Julian,” Sam said sweetly. “Certainly I learned everything I needed to know from my encounter with Mrs. Descartes.”

  Julian frowned, not sure exactly how she’d meant that last statement, despite her dulcet tone. Then, suddenly, Sam took a step forward, then another. Then, in a rush, she knelt on the carpet in front of his chair, folded her hands, one on top of the other, and placed them on his knee. Then she rested her chin on top of her hands and gazed up at him with a beaming expression.

  Surprised, but touched and pleased, Julian couldn’t resist the urge to reach down and stroke her hair. It felt like silk. “Why this confiding pose, Sam?” he teased softly. “It’s not your usual style, m’dear. Does this mean we’re friends again?”

  “Oh, yes, Julian,” she said with a saucy smile. “The very best of friends.”

  He chuckled, but despite his amusement and pleasure, there was a strange, twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach and an ache in his chest. And gazing at Sam’s glowing face and coy smile only made those uncomfortable sensations increase.

  He found himself not only stroking her hair, but running his fingers slowly, gently, down her temple to her soft cheek, then to the curve of her jaw, the dip below her chin, and then going even farther, down her long, slender neck to the warm hollow at the base of her throat.

  Her eyes had drifted shut and, through the pad of his thumb, he could feel her heart beating very quickly. Just as his was…

  At this point, Julian would have taken his hand away, if only she hadn’t opened her eyes and looked at him … just so. At that moment Sam seemed much more a woman than a child. So, instead of taking away his hand, he slid it down the slope of her shoulder, splaying his fingers over the bare skin between her neck and the puffed sleeve of her gown. Her skin was warm and petal-soft.

  She continued to gaze into his eyes, seeming to give tacit permission for him to touch her wherever and however long he pleased. But he must be mistaken; his own desires were making him see permission where it couldn’t possibly be. She wanted Nathan, he reminded himself. Not her dictatorial guardian.

  But his wandering hand apparently had a mind of its own. He was running his fingers up her neck again, tracing her jaw, then resting them lightly on her lips. Like her skin, her lips were heaven to touch. Yes, he remembered…

  He could feel her breath skimming over his knuckles. With his index finger he traced the Cupid’s bow shape of her upper and lower lip, mesmerized by the lush curves and blooming color. Her eyes drifted shut again.

  It was so pleasurable, so sensuous, so … dangerous.

  A pang of guilt struck Julian, and he was about to pull back his hand, when Sam parted her lips and drew the tip of his finger into her mouth.

  Shocked and aroused, Julian stared down at Sam’s face. She looked up at him through her slightly lowered lashes, a playful and provocative gleam in her eyes. Her mouth was warm and moist, and the edge of her tongue gently teased his finger. He reasoned that she couldn’t possibly know that what she was doing was highly erotic.

  Or could she?

  “If only you weren’t my ward…” he murmured.

  As Sam sat up straight, Julian’s finger slipped out of her mouth. With her hands still propped on his knee, she said, “What did you say?”

  God God, did I say that out loud?

  Julian cudgeled his brain for a believable reply. In other words, he needed a good lie.

  “I … I was just saying that you … you … deserve an award, Sam,” he blurted.

  Her brows furrowed while her mouth turned up in a smile. She was frankly disbelieving. “What? Did you say I deserve an award, Julian?”

  “Yes, for being the most beautiful debutante of the Season,” he extemporized. When she looked pleased, he congratulated himself for appealing to her vanity. Lies were always more easily believed when they were flattering, and no one was immune to flattery.

  “Do you really think so, Julian?” she asked him, her eyes aglow with pleasure.

  “Yes, I do,” he answered truthfully. Too beautiful, he added to himself. Then, desperate to bring an end to their little tête-à-tête, he said in a bracing, jocular tone, “Hadn’t you better dress for dinner, brat? You were late last night. Perhaps tonight you’ll do better, eh?”

  Still glowing from his compliment, Sam used his knee to push herself to her feet, then rose gracefully from the floo
r. But—was it his imagination?—did her hand linger on his knee a tad longer than necessary?

  “See you at dinner, Julian,” she said with another sweet, melting smile. Then she slipped out the door and was gone.

  Julian stood abruptly and poured himself a hefty shot of brandy, then downed it in two swallows. “Bloody Hell,” he grumbled under his breath.

  Chapter Ten

  “But I don’t want you involved, Sam,” Nathan said. “Lord Serling’ll tan your hide once he finds out you helped Clara run away with me!”

  While Madison sniffed the grass behind them and barked at every passerby, Nathan, Sam, and Clara sat on a stone bench in Hyde Park, their heads close together as they conspired to plan a successful elopement. Peering around Clara, who had been clutching Nathan’s hand and looking slightly dazed ever since accepting an official marriage proposal from him only moments before, Sam laughed and said, “Tan my hide? What a delightful expression! It must be American.”

  “It’s not a joke, Sam,” Nathan insisted with a frown. “I don’t want you getting into trouble on our account. We’ll find another way.”

  “There is no other way. Or, at least, there is no better way. Besides, I’m always in some kind of trouble with Julian. He’ll deliver me a thundering scold, refuse to talk to me for a few hours, then forgive me … as he always forgives me.”

  Sam realized she sounded rather smug and sure of herself, but after last night she couldn’t help but be convinced she had Julian wound round her little finger. His touch as he’d caressed her had been so tender and loving. And the look in his eyes … Just the memory of it made her feel warm and trembling inside. In short, she had reason to hope that Julian was finally beginning to see her as a woman.

  “You’re going to need plenty of time to get well away from London before Clara’s father discovers she’s missing,” she continued, pushing to the back of her mind her own concerns for the moment. “With so many miles between you, there’s no way he could follow and catch up with you before you’ve reached Gretna Green. And, I daresay, seeing the futility of it, he won’t even try. So, as I was saying—”

  “I’m still not convinced that I can’t just snatch ’er away in the dead of night,” Nathan grumped, wrapping his arm around Clara’s waist and giving her a squeeze. “That’s the usual way it’s done.”

  “Oh, and it sounds so romantic,” Clara agreed with a sigh and a blush as she gazed adoringly at Nathan.

  “Indeed,” Sam murmured drily. “Quite romantic, I’m sure. But quite idiotish, too … as well you know, Clara. Your father’s got the ears of a cat. None of the servants can sneak in or out of the premises without Hedley quoting them the exact hour and minute over breakfast the next morning in the servants’ hall. It’s become something of a game with him, and he takes great pride in it. Therefore, do you suppose he’d sleep through his own daughter’s elopement? And can you imagine his reaction should he catch you in the act?”

  Clara shivered. “Vividly, miss.” She turned to Nathan. “She’s right, love. We’d best listen to her.”

  Nathan sighed and smiled at his bride-to-be, then turned to Sam. “You were saying?”

  Sam nodded approvingly. “I’ll tell Julian that Clara and I will be spending all day tomorrow at the Women’s Shelter. Then—”

  “But what about your aunts?” Nathan interrupted. “The shelter is their pet project. Won’t they want to accompany you?”

  “My aunts won’t be home tomorrow,” said Sam, “which is why I fixed on tomorrow in the first place as the perfect time for you two to elope. The fact that Priss and Nan are driving down to Darlington Hall to spend the day, and staying overnight, in order to take care of some household business while Amanda is absent, fits perfectly into our plan. There will be two fewer people to maneuver around, and, since the aunts will be using Julian’s carriage for the trip, we’ll have the perfect excuse for hiring a hackney coach to drive us to the shelter. That means there will be no servants watching what we do, either, and questioning why we don’t actually go to the shelter.”

  “But doesn’t Lord Serling insist that some male servant accompany you to that quarter of town?” Nathan asked.

  “He used to,” Sam admitted. “But the aunts and I have gone so often to the shelter, we are now quite well known in the area and have many friends … some of whom are great, burly fellows who make sure we come to no harm whilst doing charity work in Spitalfields. Julian has become quite sanguine about our visits to the Women’s Shelter.”

  “How convenient it all seems,” Nathan murmured.

  “Yes, it’s all falling into place, isn’t it?” Sam enthused. “Just as if it were meant to be!”

  “And no one will suspect a thing when I carry a bag into the coach containing a few of my belongings,” Clara added eagerly. “They’ll assume we’re taking clothes and blankets to the women at the shelter.”

  Nathan’s brows knitted. “So far, so good. But once I meet you at the King’s Arms on the outskirts of town, Sam, I don’t like the idea of Clara and me hightailing it off to Scotland, leaving you to kick your heels at the inn till dusk.”

  “If I go right home, everyone will wonder where Clara is. And what am I to tell them? If I tell them the truth, Hedley will come after you. And since I must tell the truth as soon as I’m asked, the later they find it out the better. Besides, I will be perfectly safe at the inn, shut up in a room. I promise I won’t venture out all day and will even have my food sent in. Are you satisfied?”

  Nathan sat up straighter, his chest swelling. “No, I’m not satisfied. It seems a shabby business depending on you to bring me my bride, then bear the brunt of your guardian’s displeasure. The manly thing to do would be to go straight to Clara’s father and tell ’im I’m in love with his daughter, then demand her hand in marriage!”

  Clara gave a worshipful sigh as she gazed at her beloved.

  “I daresay it would be manly,” Sam agreed matter-of-factly. “And very stupid.”

  Nathan’s chest deflated. “But why?”

  “Because we can depend on a disastrous outcome of such a display of manliness. Hedley would rant and rave and lock Clara in her bedchamber, and Clara would cry her eyes out and try to starve herself by refusing meals. Hedley might even take a strap to his disobedient daughter to teach her a lesson, which would infuriate you and cause you to punch your would-be father-in-law in the nose. Verla, the housekeeper, would fall into hysterics at this juncture and send a stable lad for the police. Once the police came upon the scene—”

  “No need to go on, Sam,” Nathan growled. “I see your point. Only, one might hope for reason and judgment to prevail in such a case, especially when one is trying to do the right and honorable thing.”

  “Not in this case.” Sam looked at Clara. “Do you agree with my prediction of the course of events should Nathan insist on being manly and honorable, Clara? Or am I being overly pessimistic?”

  Clara bit her lip and turned to Nathan. “I love you for trying to do the right thing, Nathan. But Sam’s right again. While we might get my father to come about eventually to our way of thinking, it wouldn’t be till after much suffering on all sides. By going away and marrying, then writing later to reconcile with him, he might be philosophical about it and eventually accept and forgive. Either way, he’s going to be angry for a while. Isn’t it better that we’re far away from such anger … at least till it cools off? In the meantime, we can be honeymooning in bonny Scotland.”

  Nathan was convinced, and the tender looks exchanged between him and Clara prompted Sam to take Madison on a short walk to grant the lovers a few moments’ privacy. While she walked, she allowed her thoughts to return to her favorite subject … Julian. She thoroughly enjoyed helping Clara and Nathan, and she hoped to be able to help Ninian, too, when she met with his mother the day after tomorrow for tea. She hoped that both plans would go off without a hitch. Then she could concentrate on her own plan to become Julian’s brat … that is, Julian’s bride �
�� and live happily ever after.

  Julian had made a point of staying away from the house all day. He’d even sent his excuses to the aunts and eaten dinner at Whites. Ever since those highly charged moments in the library with Sam, he’d been more restless and edgy than ever and, for some reason, he felt more comfortable away from home. He didn’t know what had come over him lately, but whatever it was, he didn’t like it. He could only suppose that he was feeling rather at loose ends since breaking things off with Isabelle.

  Certainly he was worried about Sam and the mystery surrounding her mother, and was concerned about the threatening note that had warned him to cease looking into the matter, but he suspected that his restlessness and edginess had sexual origins. In short, he was probably just randy.

  He was beginning to seriously consider making inquiries about Genevieve DuBois’s current romantic status to ascertain whether or not she was available. Although he had met her on more than one occasion and had acknowledged her beauty and wit before, he had never felt the slightest urge to initiate a more intimate relationship … until recently. Yes, it had been only very recently that he’d felt a strong attraction to the lady.

  Leaving Whites after dinner, Julian was glad he’d taken his carriage because the light shower that had begun to fall around teatime had developed into a heavy downpour. When he entered Montgomery House, he headed directly to his library, but as he walked past the front parlor the aunts liked to occupy, Priss stuck out her head and smiled warmly.

  “Julian? So it is you! Samantha said she was sure she heard your step in the hall, and why didn’t I pop out and entreat you to join us for a few moments? None of us are going out, of course. We were invited to several parties, but the rain is quite dreadful. Do come in and get warm by the fire. We’ve got hot chocolate and biscuits. Are your stockings wet?”

  Julian hesitated for a moment, but he couldn’t very well refuse such a barrage of kindness. Besides, he hadn’t seen the aunts or Sam since breakfast, and the enticement of a cozy sort of family group around the fire was too much to resist. He ruefully acknowledged to himself that, for an old bachelor, he was getting rather fond of having a bevy of females around all the time.