Listen to you, his indignant intellect answered back. Haven’t you spent the last ten years working to ensure things like titles and estates are no longer the measure of a man?
Very well, it might not be logical. But apparently, caring about the distinctions of birth and class that had made his growing up such a misery was not dispensed with so easily.
Alyssa would probably tell him his father’s gift of a landed estate would make him no more or less worthy than he was right now. But she would also understand how much having it meant to him.
He had a sudden image of the outrage on Harleton’s face the first time he saw Ben walk into Brooks’s and burst out laughing.
Alyssa would appreciate that joke, too.
Chapter Sixteen
Two nights later, Alyssa sat in her bedchamber dressed for the rout at Lady Sayleford’s, leafing with reverent gloved hands through the Audubon folio Ben’s father had delivered to them the previous day. It seemed unbelievable that she actually had her own copy of such a magnificent work.
Ben had told her he’d been looking for a set when his father located these. She still felt awed and humbled that they were willing to go to so much trouble to find something they knew she would love. Few people in her life had ever cared what she liked, much less bestirred themselves to provide it. And only Will had understood how valuable these splendid drawings would be to her, to study and admire and emulate as she went about creating her own work.
She was tempted to take them with her when she left on her expedition, but it would be safer to leave them in London. Although she didn’t need any further excuses to linger. With the coach readied and the new staff hired, she should have already chosen a day to set out, since she knew perfectly well where she needed to go—and had a very narrow window of time to locate the birds she most needed to sketch before they left their winter migration grounds.
Every day she remained with Ben made it harder to leave. If the publisher’s deadline weren’t so imminent, she probably wouldn’t be able to make herself go at all, so charming and funny and stimulating he was, seeming to enjoy her company, most definitely enjoying their uninhibited lovemaking. After each tender interlude, hope would sprout like a persistent weed that maybe, just maybe he might be on the way to falling in love with the bride who’d been forced on him.
More serious was the danger to her own heart. She was being foolishly blind if she thought she could linger here, enjoying his company, revelling in their lovemaking, without being drawn closer and closer to turning over to him the last bit of her heart he hadn’t already claimed. If she wanted to maintain enough emotional distance to survive, if...when his current fascination with her ended and he moved on to someone else as—a pox on her for being an idiot—she had promised him he could, she needed to go as soon as possible.
Just as serious was the danger to her own sense of self. Her art defined her—yet here she was, contemplating dawdling in London like some starry-eyed miss waiting around for the object of her affection to notice her, instead of setting out to do the work she loved, the work she’d been born to do.
Who would she be, if she lost herself? And how would she manage, if she gave up her heart to a man who would satisfy but never love her?
Before she could further mull over those unanswerable questions, Ben walked in, looking splendid in his formal evening attire. ‘Still looking at the prints?’ he teased. ‘Although I suppose I should encourage you. You spend so much time gazing at them, you’ll never be ready to leave on your expedition and I’ll get to keep you longer in London.’
He came over to help her place the print carefully back in the tin. Once the lid was in place, she reached up to give him a hug. ‘What a wonderful present! I shall never tire of looking at them. Though I do need to depart shortly. The last few sketches I need are of rare migrant species who only visit English shores for a short time each winter. When he accepted my proposal for the collection, the publisher specifically noted that he would not publish the volume unless he could include those images.’
Ben nodded. ‘Then, regretfully, we must get you on your way as soon as possible. Russell says the coach is ready.’
‘Yes. The provisions have arrived, I’ve mapped out the route and, using your guidebook, chosen inns along the way. It only remains to get to it.’
‘I know what I want to get to,’ he murmured, nibbling the tip of her ear.
She should pull away—but soon enough, she’d be on a long, lonely journey without him. So she leaned into him, rubbing her torso against his, feeling the burn of the fabric against her sensitised nipples. Feeling his hardness surge against her. ‘I suppose there’s no way we could cry off tonight’s party?’
After holding her pressed against him for a few more beguiling minutes, he sighed and pushed her back. ‘Miss the rout Lady Sayleford is giving specifically in our honour? Our lives wouldn’t be worth a farthing. I’d have to resign from Parliament and flee with you to the Outer Hebrides.’
‘I suppose we’d better leave, then. Will we have to stand in the reception line?’
‘I’m afraid so. Brace yourself, my sweet. There will be music, I’m told, so at least I’ll be able to dance with you.’
‘At the rout—and later. I had some riding in mind, too.’
Heat flamed in his green eyes. ‘I’ll hold you to that. Now, minx, we must be off.’
* * *
Several hours later, Alyssa sat in the ladies’ retiring room, having Lady Sayleford’s maid stitch up a bit of lace that had pulled loose from her hem when an inept gentleman trod on it. They were to play a waltz soon, Lady Sayleford had told her, and she wanted to dance it with Ben.
For someone who tried to avoid society parties, she had to concede this rout had been rather enjoyable. Of course, Lady Sayleford’s wine and refreshments were excellent and her guests chosen judiciously to include men from government and finance, landowners of skill and enterprise, and ladies who complemented them. The conversation had been about the changes being proposed in Parliament, or the most advanced methods of improving land, or spirited discussions of the current offerings at the theatre. Not even the ladies resorted to prosing on about fashion, jewellery, or the latest on dit.
‘I think that’s done it, ma’am,’ the maid said.
‘Thank you, Mary.’ After handing the girl a coin, Alyssa walked back down the hallway, intent on reaching the ballroom so she could find Ben before the orchestra struck up the waltz.
In her hurry, she was two steps into the salon adjoining the ballroom when she recognised Ben’s tall figure and broad shoulders on the opposite side of the room. In the next instant, she realised there was a woman standing beside him...a very beautiful woman. Who had her hand on Ben’s arm.
Fortunately, as he was facing away from her, Ben hadn’t noticed her arrival—and the lady facing towards Alyssa was apparently too absorbed in their conversation to have noticed, either. Heart hammering in her throat, feeling like she’d been punched in the stomach, as Alyssa silently retreated, the music from the ballroom ceased. Not wanting to walk back down the hallway in the sudden quiet for fear her footsteps might draw their attention, she slipped behind one of the twin Corinthian columns that set off the entrance to the salon.
Out of sight but not, unfortunately, out of hearing.
‘You might have warned me you were getting married,’ the lady said. ‘I was shocked when Darlington told me. And what’s this folderol Lady Sayleford’s been putting out about a secret love-match?’
‘You’d better ask Lady Sayleford.’
The lady wrinkled her delicate nose. ‘Discreet as ever, I see. But really, Ben, Lady Alyssa Lambornne? Two Seasons and both disasters! No wit, no style! I am disappointed in you.’
‘Now, Cressida, you know I won’t discuss my wife with you.’
‘So, does this mea
n there will be no more carousing with the Honourable Christopher Lattimar? Oh, how the ladies are going to weep!’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve had my time to carouse. One grows out of it, I suppose.’
‘Perhaps. But not out of the need for...satisfaction. One only becomes more discreet.’
‘You would know, my dear.’
‘Yes, I would, wouldn’t I? So I hope you won’t abandon your...particular friends.’
‘I don’t think I’ll have time for that, with Parliament beginning.’
‘Parliament won’t be in session for ever. Just don’t keep me waiting too long.’
Tapping his arm with her fan, the lady started to walk away. ‘Don’t bother waiting for me, Cressida,’ Ben said after her. ‘Not when there are so many other conquests to be made.’
‘But few so splendid.’ With that, the dark-haired lady blew him a kiss and returned to the ballroom.
What did they say about eavesdroppers never liking what they hear? Not that she’d intended to eavesdrop. Still feeling sick, Alyssa felt unable to move a muscle—until a hand placed on her shoulder made her jump.
‘Don’t worry about Lady Darlington,’ Lady Sayleford said in her ear. ‘She’s ancient history, my dear.’
‘She looked rather like current events to me,’ Alyssa replied.
‘That’s just Tawny being gallant. He’s always gentle with the ladies—though you will note, he gave her no encouragement.’
Before she could reply, possibly hearing Lady Sayleford’s carrying voice, Ben turned and looked in their direction. She could easily imagine what he read in her face.
She didn’t want to talk to him—not now. Clamping her hand on Lady Sayleford’s arm, she said brightly, ‘Everyone has been raving about your crab canapés, but I’ve not had one yet. Would you show me where they are?’
‘Of course, my dear.’ As they proceeded into the salon, Lady Sayleford said, ‘I’m taking your wife into the refreshment room, Tawny. Why don’t you fetch her a glass of wine and join us there?’
‘Of course, Lady Sayleford,’ Ben replied, his voice sounding perfectly normal—she couldn’t tell about his expression, since she was avoiding looking at him. ‘Would you like a glass as well?’
‘Yes, please. And do make sure no one waylays you before you bring them.’
‘I will take care, ma’am.’
* * *
With the din of music and conversation, the press of guests and the other Hellions present to chat with, Alyssa had time to compose herself for the talk with Ben she knew would be coming. It wasn’t until they’d thanked Lady Sayleford, bid everyone goodbye and climbed into the coach that they were finally alone.
The drive to Queen Street being short, Alyssa thought Ben might wait until they arrived home to broach the subject. Instead, he turned to her the moment the groom shut the door behind them.
‘I know how it might have looked, but let me assure you, Lyssa, I’m not involved with Lady Darlington.’
‘But you were at one time.’
Sighing, he nodded. ‘Yes, I was at one time.’
‘And she would like to renew the acquaintance.’
‘Perhaps. Cressida Darlington lives to entice men—the result of wedding a much older and rather uninterested husband. But the important fact is that I don’t wish to renew the acquaintance.’ He reached over to tip up her chin, so she had to look in his eyes. ‘There is only one woman I want in my life and in my bed. You, Lyssa. You believe me, don’t you?’
His expression was absolutely sincere and he’d never lied to her. ‘Yes, I believe you.’
He blew out a sigh. ‘Thank heaven you’re so sensible! I’d hate to think we were going to waste the precious few days you have left in London with you angry with me.’
Though Alyssa smiled, she wanted to say that maybe she wasn’t so sensible. Not that she was angry—how could she be, when she’d given him permission to do whatever he wished?
You don’t want anyone else now...but what of later? The words clawed at her throat, wanting escape. Before she could decide whether or not to release them, the coach rolled to a stop before their town house.
‘Would you like some wine before we go up?’ he asked after they’d mounted the steps and given the butler their wraps. When she shook her head, he said, ‘Good. I’m ready to retire now.’
He took her arm and led her up to her chamber, leaving briefly for Molly to relieve her of her elaborate ball gown while Russell helped him out of his evening clothes. Just as Molly began brushing out her hair, he strode back in.
Taking the brush from the maid, he said, ‘I’ll finish that. Go along to bed.’
For long minutes after the maid departed, there was no sound but the crackle of the fire and the rasp of the brush through her hair.
Time is short...don’t waste it, she told herself as she let the soothing sensations wash away her tension, distress and uncertainty. She wouldn’t worry about later. Ben was hers now and she would enjoy that to the fullest.
So when he put down the brush and bent to kiss her, she met his lips with all the ardency within her, delving into his mouth, teasing and tantalising his tongue with hers, until he groaned and picked her up and carried her to the bed.
And then there was nothing but him, and her, and bliss.
* * *
Alyssa woke in the greyness before dawn, barely enough daylight in the chamber for her to make out the outlines of the furniture—and Ben, sleeping beside her.
Tenderly she touched his cheek. He murmured and stirred, but didn’t waken.
No wonder. Perhaps he’d been thinking about her leaving and wanted to make each moment memorable, or perhaps their talk about Lady Darlington had unsettled him, too, for their first lovemaking had been fast, and hard, almost desperate. And then slow, gentle, exquisitely tender, as he touched and caressed the areas experience had taught him brought her the greatest pleasure, until she was almost weeping with the intensity and beauty of it.
As she lay wrapped in his arms afterward, he told her quietly how proud he was of her talent, how much joy she’d brought to his life and how much he was going to miss her.
The temptation swept through her to bring up the matter of her promise to him, confess that she’d reconsidered the matter, and, if he didn’t mind too much, would like to rescind it. And then she would remember again how faithfully he’d kept all his promises to her and hesitate.
It hadn’t been a wise promise to make. But, caught up in the euphoria of finally being able to pursue her art, to travel freely whenever and wherever she wished, how was she to have guessed how much Ben Tawny would come to possess her mind and thoughts and soul, as well as her body?
Giving yourself up to passion needn’t rob you of anything, he’d told her as she lay in his arms that first night in Devon. It could make complete something you didn’t even realise you were missing.
It had certainly done the latter. But though it hadn’t entirely robbed her of her desire to devote herself to painting and exploring, it had certainly muted it.
If she asked Ben to reconsider and he agreed to change the terms between them, she would be removing the last barrier, forcing her to be cautious and hold on to herself as an independent woman. Without that, it would be all too easy to lose herself in him—and who would she be then?
Before she took such a step, she needed to think over all the implications very carefully. And to consider the question dispassionately, she needed to get away from Ben’s mesmerising presence.
Her provisions and her art supplies were already packed. There was no reason she couldn’t leave immediately. And so many reasons why lingering any longer would be dangerous.
Silently Alyssa slipped from bed, took pen and paper from her desk and wrote Ben a note of farewell. Then, gathering her travelling
clothes from the wardrobe, she tiptoed out of the chamber into her dressing room, and rang the bell pull to summon her maid. As soon as she was dressed, she’d roust out the grooms and the coachman.
And set out for the coast before the longings of her heart prompted her to stay.
Chapter Seventeen
Three days later, Ben sat at his desk in the fading light of early evening. The previous day, Giles had sent all the Hellions a note cancelling their scheduled meeting, along with the joyful news that his wife was increasing, but not feeling well. He’d promised to contact them again soon to arrange another meeting, to continue their planning—and help him celebrate.
Which must be why, Ben thought, looking down as the note in his hand, the upcoming meeting had been set for tonight, in their old room at the Quill and Gavel rather than at Giles and Maggie’s town house. The taproom was nearby to assist in the celebrations, and an ailing Maggie wouldn’t have to play hostess.
Even so, Ben had mixed feelings about returning there. On the one hand, until Giles and Maggie married and the group availed themselves of the hospitality of her home, the public house had been their normal meeting place, where the Hellions had hammered out details of the Reform Bill—an achievement Ben recalled with great pride and satisfaction. But it was also the site of that infamous gathering where Denbry had proposed his wager to ruin Alyssa, setting in motion events that had taken control of his life out of Ben’s hands and changed it for ever.
Though he’d expected to feel satisfaction that he’d heeded the voice of honour and married Alyssa, he’d also expected to feel some anger and irritation at no longer being able to openly pursue whatever—or whomever—he chose. The wedding, the journey after and his absorption in getting to know and seduce his bride had put those feelings on hold—he’d thought. But his encounter with Lady Darlington the other night confirmed what he’d already known on some unconscious level: he really wasn’t interested in pursuing other women. Not now, at any rate.
Convenient Proposal to the Lady Page 21
