“Seven…eight…nine…ten.”
In an instant, Mark turned on his heel and leveled the barrel. Once again, to his unutterable frustration, his lady appeared at the perimeter of the action, and he rolled his eyes.
“Lady Amanda, hold hard.” Damn willful woman. But then he studied her countenance, as the marquess and Helen joined Amanda, and he noted the terror straining his stubborn debutante’s delicate features, the rigid set of her shoulders, and the noticeable quiver of her chin, so he reconsidered his predicament. While he desired a measure of retribution, which he viewed as balm to his pride, he wanted Amanda more. Inclining his head, Mark aimed and then said, “Clarendon, if you value your life, make your apologies to Lady Amanda, and convince me of your sincerity and regret, else I will dispatch you to your maker.”
“Oh, I say.” Clarendon all but danced a jig, and then a telltale stain appeared at his crotch.
“You must be joking.” Captain Nelson scoffed. “What a disgrace to the marines. Were you a sailor, I should have you docked at half-pay.”
“Out with it.” Mark bared his teeth. “Now.”
“My agreeable Lady Amanda Gascoigne-Lake, please accept my most humble expression of remorse for the unkind words of yesterday afternoon.” Clarendon winced, when Mark arched a brow. “I am truly sorry for any distress my inappropriate conduct caused. Know that I remain your unworthy servant.”
“Lady Amanda, are you satisfied?” Mark kept the milksop in his sights.
“No, I most certainly am not.” She thrust her adorable chin, which she now set firm, folded her arms, and humphed, and how he ached to kiss her silly. “I believe Second Lieutenant Clarendon insulted you, too.”
“My lady is unhappy, Clarendon.” Mark bit his tongue to keep from laughing. “You shall gratify her, or I will spill your blood. The choice is yours.”
“Most noble First Lieutenant Douglas, I do apologize for my offense.” Clarendon swallowed hard and appeared to teeter on the brink of an apoplectic fit, as he glanced at Amanda. “You are a credit to your uniform, sir. And I should endeavor to emulate your generous example.”
“And now is Lady Amanda content?” Mark narrowed his stare.
For a few seconds, his officious little thing delayed, as she tapped a finger to her cheek and held Clarendon in suspense. When she cast Mark a flirty smile, he could not help but grin. At long last, she heaved a sigh. “Oh, I suppose if Lieutenant Douglas is appeased, then so am I.”
In a flash, Mark redirected the pistol and fired into the ground--and Clarendon collapsed, unconscious, on the grass.
A throng of revelers swamped Mark, extending their congratulations for a job well done. And much to his surprise, a bevy of young beauties, including the two snobs from the night he met his lady, vied for his attention, but there was only one face he sought, which remained conspicuously absent. As the crowd dissected and relived the events, he located his society miss on the green, in the company of the marquess and Helen.
“Bloody good show, Douglas.” Helen erupted in boisterous mirth. “Even though you shed no blood. You should have shot that namby-pamby in the arse.”
The marquess extended his hand. “First Lieutenant Douglas--”
“Please, call me Mark.” He accepted the customary male greeting, in friendship.
“And as you so gallantly defended my family’s honor, you must address me informally, as Hiram.” The marquess chucked Mark’s shoulder. “You have made quite an impression on my wife and my daughter, so I should like to invite you to dinner, Saturday next, as it seems we have business to discuss.”
“Thank you, for the magnanimous gesture, and I am obliged to accept.” And he would secure his lady’s hand in marriage. “But in regard to the duel, I only did what polite decorum required.”
“As usual, you are too modest, Lieutenant Douglas.” Amanda stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Papa, cousin Helen, may I have a minute with my hero, in private?”
Her father frowned. “Amanda--”
“Papa, I can hardly be compromised in the middle of Paddington Green, with countless spectators present.” His haughty miss folded her arms, and Mark vowed she would never bend him as she had her father. “You can guard me from our coach, as you can see me clearly from there.”
“All right, but do not linger, or I shall collect you, and you will not enjoy it.” The marquess elbowed Helen. “Come along, my dear. Let us allow my daughter a moment to congratulate her champion.”
Summoning patience, Mark bade his time. She shuffled her feet and cleared her throat. He raked his fingers through his hair, and then he met his lady’s gaze. Amusement danced in her blue eyes, and he sighed.
“You disobeyed my request to stay home.” He rested hands on hips. “I ought to heat your posterior.”
“My dashing Lieutenant Douglas, I will never be ruled by that which I do not do of my own free will, and if we are to build a family, I had better start out as I mean to go on. Anything less would be dishonest, and if you do not appreciate it, you may feel free to plant your affections elsewhere.” And then her composure broke, and she shook her first. “But if you do--well, you just try it, and see what happens. And if you wish to punish me, I shall be delighted to present my bottom for your inspection.”
Mark burst into laughter at her glorious display of temper. In a scarce second, he imagined his palm pressed to her delectable derrière, and his Jolly Roger stood at full salute. It was as though he had just returned home, from a lengthy voyage, and he could make love to her as fifty men. “Amanda, what am I to do with you?”
“Why, whatever you wish, sir.” With an impish grin, she whispered, “I am at your disposal.”
“That is an offer I dare not refuse.” He spied the marquess, pacing before the coach. “But your father grows impatient, and you already owe me a boon, which I intend to collect, tomorrow night, at the Chatham’s.”
“Until then, my Mark. And thank you, for restoring my honor.” Amanda stepped to the side but halted. “One more thing, if I may impose further on your hospitality.”
“My Amanda, you are never an imposition.” He sketched a proper bow. “What would you have of me?”
“Only this, which I impart with all my heart.” Bold and unafraid, she stiffened upright and met his stare, and what he saw there quite stole his breath away. “I love you.”
#
The cavernous ballroom at the Chatham’s London residence boasted a painted ceiling by Francis Hayman, in his signature French Rococo tradition, and sixteenth century Italian embroideries covered the walls. Despite the sheer magnitude of the space, the sparse combination of crystal chandeliers and candelabra, along with strategically placed bouquets of hothouse winter mixes, lent the venue a cozy, romantic aura, which made it a favorite event of the Little Season, for beaus and their ladies.
“Will you stop fidgeting?” Cousin Helen rolled her eyes. “Just watching you makes my big toe hurt. And you cannot possibly doubt that he will show, after he risked his neck to save your reputation.”
“I know, but he failed to pay call this afternoon, neglected to escort me to the Promenade this evening, and I am at a loss to explain why.” In silence, Amanda wondered if her ill-timed declaration had something to do with Mark’s uncharacteristic and unappreciated absence. Had she frightened her heretofore-intrepid sailor? If that were the case, then it was a bit of good luck she had been interrupted prior to the gentlemen’s contest, as she had intended to send her dashing lieutenant into battle shielded with her pledge of eternal devotion.
“And what have you done with your wardrobe?” Helen arched a brow. “Although your signature style is fashionable, of late your color palette consists of a singular shade, and dare I ask the reason?”
“Now you know I have always had a fondness for the hue.” Amanda sniffed and assessed her velvet gown trimmed in old gold. “After all, my father is an admiral, and Mark favors me in navy blue.”
“Daresay he would favor you out of navy blue, too
.” Helen waggled her brows and chortled. “As I have seen how he looks at you when he thinks you unaware.”
“Oh?” Amanda pretended indifference, though she desperately wanted to believe her brash relation. “And how is that?”
“As a man just returned from lengthy maneuvers.” She elbowed Amanda in the ribs. “And I would wager he would like to conduct extended maneuvers with you.”
“Helen. Keep your voice down, as someone might hear you.” Amanda scanned the immediate vicinity, tamped her expectations, which had flown the roof, and grabbed her cousin. “Do you really think he desires me, or do you say so for my benefit?”
The quirky spinster narrowed her stare. “Well--”
“Lady Amanda.” John Markham, the Earl of Woverton, bowed. “Might I request the pleasure of the allemande, this evening?”
“Lord Woverton, you are too kind, and had I any openings on my dance card, I should accommodate you.” Falsehoods were not her forte, so she braced for an impending lightning strike. “Alas, I must decline your gracious offer.”
“How exceedingly cruel of you, Lady Amanda.” He winked. “Perhaps, the next time.”
“Of course, my lord.” She counted to three and then cornered Helen. “Where is Mark? What has come of him? I cannot endure the suspense.”
A commotion in the hall caught everyone’s attention. Cheers and commendations reverberated off the walls, and then spontaneous applause erupted, as Mark strolled into the ballroom. Swamped by well-wishers, he disappeared amid the throng, including a bevy of beauties, even as Amanda leaped on her feet in an attempt to gain a view of her errant hero.
“What did I tell you? And stop hopping about like a rabbit.” Helen clucked her tongue. “As it is, I would bet my monthly stipend he reports for your inspection, posthaste.”
In that instant, Mark met Amanda’s gaze, and she smiled; yet he remained stoic. For a few seconds, he stared at her, but she could glean nothing from his demeanor. Then he gave her his back, and her confidence sank to a new low.
Puzzled by his reticence, she searched her memory for a clue to his exasperating behavior. After his much-professed ardor in the park, he acted as though she were a stranger. And yet common sense reminded her that passion had not equated love.
As the quartet signaled the first waltz, she remained at sea among the spectators. Unwilling to quit the field without a single charge, she ventured to the smoking room and lingered in the opening. It was the men’s domain, so her presence would garner sharp rebuke were she to cross the threshold. When she spied her lieutenant, she waved, yet he paid no heed. Dejected and rejected, she retraced her steps.
For the second selection of dances, Amanda hugged the side wall and sheltered in the shadows, as her erstwhile suitor had since removed to the card room, without so much as a by your leave. When Helen granted the quadrille to a distant relative, Amanda strolled to a large, floor to ceiling outset window. With a quick glance from left to right, she slipped behind the drapery.
Admiring the starry sky, she rested her head against the casement and wrapped her arms about herself, as vignettes of the life to which she had aspired played a fanciful accompaniment to the lilting notes of the music, which had done little to improve her mood. Nothing about the night had gone as she had planned. Worse, it appeared Lieutenant Douglas no longer considered her his Amanda. With something between a sob and a sigh, she surrendered to the pain.
“What are you hiding from, my Amanda?” Mark chuckled, turned her to face him, and winced. “Why are you crying, love?”
“Does it matter?” As he wiped her cheeks, she frowned. “And why do you care? I see you are popular, tonight. Certainly too busy for me.”
“Amanda.” When she tried to retreat, he held her firm. “Do not be angry with me, as we must be careful not to rouse suspicion. In light of the duel, everyone watches us.”
“And that matters? You are all friendliness and easy manners, sir. Even as you ignore me.” When she attempted to avoid his scrutiny, he cupped her chin and pinned her with his stare. “I suppose I should be magnanimous in the wake of your chivalry, so I shall make you the same bargain you once offered me, though I should be more beneficent. If you changed your mind, if you have any reservations, you should proclaim them, now. While I shall be a vast deal more than disappointed, I shall be kind, and I will not be angry with you. You have my word, as a lady, I would abide your preference.”
“Bloody hell.” Mark blinked, stammered, and sputtered. “Do you hear that? It is your favorite, darling. Waltz with me.”
His reluctance to respond to her proclamation sounded a death knell from her perspective, and she plummeted to impressive depths, even as he enfolded her in his embrace. Determined to force his hand, to make him admit his misgivings, she now met his gaze. As they whirled amid a crush of elegant debutantes and debonair dandies, the couples passed in a blur. A ripple of awareness, tiny, at first, swirled and soared, carrying them ever higher, cocooning them in soothing warmth.
Conscious of nothing save the beat of her heart and the man for whom she had set her cap, she yielded to the enticing sensations he provoked, even as he manifested the source of her discomfit.
“You tremble, sweet Amanda.” Mark squeezed her fingers. “What have I done to upset you?”
What could she tell him? How could she form the words to convey the torment wreaking havoc with her insides? And if she could describe the length of her despair, could she even summon the strength to speak, given the agony clawing at her chest and welling in her throat? Helpless, she studied his countenance.
The dinner bell pealed, and Mark anchored her at his side.
“Well, now, how are the young--” Helen peered at Amanda and gasped. “Merciful heavens, what happened?” She glanced at Mark. “All right. Follow me, and I shall brook no refusals.”
“Lead the way, fair Helen.” Mark clicked his heels and laughed, but Amanda found no humor in their exchange.
Arm in arm, with her hesitant suitor, she entered the dining hall. When her cousin commandeered a table for two in a dimly lit corner, Amanda steeled herself for the onslaught that his proximity often kindled.
“What a perfect place to take your ease, as I shall sit near the buffet.” Then, in an earsplitting tone, Helen said, “I require a seat to prop my foot--my big toe, you know. But I will be watching you, so no busy hands.”
Mortified, Amanda uttered no complaint as Mark ushered her to a chair and then brought his beside hers. A cold chill of dread settled in her breast, as she pondered his reply. Why would he delay? What had he hoped to achieve? Had he feared she might enact a scene?
“Are you hungry, love?” Mark shifted his weight and bent his head. “Shall I fetch you a plate?”
Oh, why would he not confess his disinterest and have done with it?
“Amanda, please, this grows tedious.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Ah, I know my lady’s fondness. Do not run away, as I shall return, darling.”
She found no joy in his term of endearment, as he had not expressed his penchant. Peering to the side, Amanda frowned at Helen, who shrugged, furrowed her brow, and then compressed her lips.
“And here we are for my lady, a Shrewsbury cake and a glass of champagne.” Mark set the items on the table. “And I thought I would share your fancy, as I have secured my own portions. To what shall we toast?”
For a minute, she simply traced the damask pattern on the burgundy cloth. At last, it was too much to bear. In that instant, Amanda closed her eyes, and a tear coursed her cheek.
“Amanda, talk to me.” Mark groaned, a weighty affectation she felt to her core. “What is wrong?”
“Why should I answer your query, when I await your, as yet, unstated preference?” She picked a speck of lint from her sleeve. “Admit it, you no longer want me.”
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Amanda, look at me.”
At last, she obeyed.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He cast a qui
ck peek over his shoulder, and then he clutched her hand and drew it beneath the table linens to rest on his thigh. “My darling girl, can you not see? Have I not warned you are temptation, personified? Do you not comprehend the extent of my torment? Of course, you are an innocent, so you cannot conceive of my anguish.”
“Have I hurt you?” Confused, she recounted the past few weeks for some hint of reproach. “Did my declaration embarrass you? Is that why you did not visit me this afternoon or escort me in the park?”
“No. But I suspect I have hurt you, and I should sooner take my own life than cause you distress.” He shook his head. “My well-intentioned but naïve seductress, you offer a kiss in payment for the restoration of your honor, yet I could never restrain myself to that treasure, and I would not exchange one stain upon your reputation for another, as you are too important to me. You struck a mortal wound from which there is no escape, and the balm is such that we cannot indulge until we are wed. But I assure you, when deprived of your company, and it is a trial I can scarcely endure, you are never far from my thoughts.”
“Oh, Mark.” Hope blossomed, and Amanda inhaled a shaky breath and twined her fingers in his. “I feel the same, as I ache for you.”
After another surreptitious glance at Helen, he studied Amanda’s lips, and she fidgeted beneath his examination, which left her giddy. But when he slipped his thumb inside her glove to caress her palm, skin to skin, she shivered, and he winked.
“At night, I dream of you, soft and feminine in my arms. In the light of day, I envision our future, and it has become a most cherished pastime altogether new to me.” He leaned near and whispered, “I want to take care of you, yet you are my officious little thing, so you need me not. But I want to hold you when your belly is round with my child, to calm your fears when you are alarmed, and to comfort you when you are in pain. I would cry with you when you are sad, and laugh with you when you are happy. For you, alone, I would kill a thousand men, if only to be your champion. This I say, while leaving even more unsaid, if only to make you understand. My Amanda, I love you, too.”
A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology Page 4
