He saw Jemima bite her lip before she acquiesced. ‘I suppose so.’ She sighed. ‘It is difficult to imagine how I could sink any further in Lady Marguerite’s estimation. It might have helped me to redeem myself had I been enceinte but I will have to disappoint her, I fear.’
‘For now, perhaps.’
He saw Jemima blush slightly. ‘Rob…’ she did not meet his eyes ‘…would you have been so very angry with me if Tilly had been my daughter?’
There was a silence. Rob struggled with himself. He wanted to be honest with her. ‘I would have been shocked—and disappointed. I was shocked, when I thought that Tilly was yours.’
‘Of course. I know that men wish their brides to be innocent…’ Jemima looked up. Her eyes were shy. ‘You have no cause to worry, you know. I told you that before.’
Rob pulled her back into his arms, holding her tightly. ‘I cannot pretend that I am not glad, Jemima. But if Tilly had been yours then I would not have put you aside. You have become too important to me.’
Their gazes locked. Rob lowered his head very gently and kissed her lips. Then he put her firmly from him.
‘Get into bed.’
Jemima’s eyes were huge. ‘Rob—’
‘Don’t worry. I am going to stay with you, but only because I do not wish Augusta to see me creeping from bedroom to bedroom like an actor in a bad play. It would be just like her to be spying in the corridors.’
Jemima was frowning. ‘If she remembers me—’
‘Then we shall tell the truth. You look very tired. Pray do not worry about this now.’
Jemima plucked his sleeve. ‘But your relatives…Your grandmother will not acknowledge me again once she knows my background.’
‘She will have to if she wishes to speak to me again.’ Rob urged her towards the bed, pulling the covers back for her. Jemima sat down on the edge of the bed and obediently swung her legs under the pile of blankets. And then she stopped, her gaze narrowing on his face.
‘What is it?’
Rob wrenched his gaze up to meet hers. ‘Your feet. I saw them before, when we stayed the night at the inn and I put you to bed. But I had forgot…’
Jemima wiggled defensively under the covers and pulled the sheet up to her chin. ‘They do not hurt. All the burns healed long ago.’
She sounded matter-of-fact. Rob sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. ‘Do you have any scars elsewhere?’
‘The elbows and heels are the worst,’ Jemima said. ‘You use them to wedge yourself into a chimney so they tend to take the greatest punishment.’
She eased one arm out modestly from under the bedclothes and held it up so that the fine material of the sleeve fell back.
‘I fear that I may never wear elegant summer dresses with the shorter sleeve…’
Rob could see what she meant. The skin of her elbow was puckered and hard, and there were scars along her arm. They were old injuries, but the scars were still purple and angry. He ran his fingers gently over the skin there.
‘Are these the worst scars that you have?’
Jemima had recovered herself. Her blue eyes sparkled at him. ‘Is this some kind of perverse competition, Robert? Do you have war injuries that are worse than my climbing scars?’
Rob started to laugh. His hands went to the sash tying his dressing robe. ‘I could show you.’
Jemima’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘No, thank you! I gained the distinct impression that you were naked beneath your robe.’
The silence in the room held a different quality now. ‘I am,’ Rob said. ‘I always sleep naked.’
He saw Jemima swallow hard. All he could see of her was her face and neck above the scalloped neckline of the nightrail, but it was enough. Her eyes held a slumberous quality now, warm and blue. Her hair was tumbled over the pillows and smelled faintly of jasmine. The nightrail was modest, but he could see the swell of her breasts beneath the lace at the top and the sight filled him with instant lust. There was a pulse beating in the hollow of her throat as she watched his face.
‘Robert—’
Rob leaned over and stopped her words with his lips. She responded instantly, her mouth soft and full beneath his own, parting for him, letting him in. He took what she offered, pressing her back against the pillows, angling his head so that he might deepen the kiss. Her body shifted beneath the covers, accommodating itself to his. Her hand came up to touch his face in the gentlest caress, then tangle in the lapels of his dressing robe, drawing him closer.
Rob drew back a little so that he could trail soft kisses down the satin skin of her neck, pausing to press his lips to the hollow where the pulse still beat its frantic rhythm. The candle had burned down low now and the light was very soft. Jemima’s eyes were closed, the lashes dark on her cheek, her head slightly turned away against the whiteness of the pillow. Her lips were already stung pink with his kisses and her body was soft and open to him. Rob’s throat closed with a mixture of desire and tenderness. He wanted to possess her and claim what was already his own.
His mouth returned to hers with an urgency that drove all other thoughts aside. He felt her small hands sliding over his robe, then under it, drifting across his bare chest. He threw back the covers, let the dressing robe fall to the floor and slid into the bed.
Jemima turned onto her side so that they faced one another. She did not speak. They lay there studying each other for a long minute, then Jemima put a hand out and touched his cheek again, and he turned his lips against the palm.
‘Rough,’ she said, rubbing experimentally with her fingers.
Rob felt his body react. He was wound up as tightly as a spring. He put his hand out and brushed the hair away from Jemima’s face. It curled softly about his fingers and he rubbed a strand across his lips.
His fingers continued their exploration down to the edge of the lawn nightrail. The skin was soft beneath his touch. Jemima’s breasts rose and fell quickly as the tempo of her breathing increased. She could not help herself. She was feeling the exquisite relief of a secret that had finally been told. Like Rob, she felt the sweet taste of reconciliation.
Rob’s palm skimmed the tip of her breast as his hand came to rest on the thin material just below its curve. Jemima squirmed.
‘Rob…’ Her voice was very soft.
‘Mmm?’ Rob did not raise his head. His fingers went to the buttons that ran down the front of the nightdress. He opened one. Then another.
Jemima’s hand came up to still his. ‘You know that we should not be doing this.’
‘That is a matter of opinion.’
‘My opinion is that we are breaking the vow of celibacy. Or that we are in grave danger of doing so.’
Now Rob did look up, and the heated, dangerous darkness of his eyes made her catch her breath. He laughed and his fingers resumed their slow movement downwards.
‘Are we then to discuss celibacy tonight?’
Jemima struggled between practicality and desire. ‘I think we should.’
Rob leaned over and kissed her very lightly, taking her bottom lip gently between his teeth. His hand slid into the bodice of the nightgown and cupped Jemima’s breast. The jolt to her senses made her gasp and Rob took advantage with a ruthless kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth, tasting, teasing, driving her to the edge of wildness. Jemima dug her fingers into his shoulders and revelled in the gasp that she wrung from him in turn.
‘Define celibacy.’ Rob’s lips hovered over hers. His hand was stroking up the curve of her breast from beneath, raising tiny shivers through her whole body. Never had Jemima felt less like indulging in word games, but she had a mission to accomplish and if Rob was determined to throw away forty thousand pounds it was down to her to save him.
‘Celibacy is…’ She tried to focus.
‘Yes?’
‘I…I do not have the dictionary to hand…’
Rob bent his head and took the tip of her breast in his mouth. Jemima’s back arched and she let out a despairing groan.
‘If you cannot come up with a definition,’ Rob said, and she could hear the laughter in his voice, ‘then what can I do but continue until you do?’
He circled her breast slowly, deliberately, with his tongue before flicking the tip.
‘Celibacy is chastity,’ Jemima managed to whisper. She cleared her throat. ‘Celibacy is chastity and this, Robert, is not chaste at all.’
There was a pause. Jemima opened her eyes to see Rob poised above her. The dark hair was tumbled across his brow and the lean planes of his face were taut with desire. Her fascinated gaze moved lower, to where the bodice of her nightrail fell open. Rob’s hand was resting on the curve of her breast, dark against the pale skin, and the sight shot her through with such fierce desire that she was left weak and trembling.
‘I think that you should leave,’ she said.
Rob’s gaze held hers. ‘Do you want me to leave?’
‘No,’ Jemima said. ‘I do not want you to, but I still think that you should.’
Rob sighed. She felt the bed shift under his weight as he sat up and reached for his dressing robe. The candle was burning very low now, but in the pale light she caught sight of his nakedness before he flung the robe about himself. She stared.
‘Don’t,’ Rob said, and there was a wrench in his voice. ‘Do not look at me like that, Jemima, or I swear that will be an end to all celibacy.’
Jemima’s face flamed. So firm and hard and sculpted…She was aching to feel those hard lines against her. She screwed up her face in an agony of frustrated wanting.
‘I am sorry,’ she said.
‘I’m not.’ Rob bent and dropped a lingering kiss on her parted lips. ‘You are a stronger person than I am, Jemima Selborne.’
‘If you go through the two dressing rooms then you may reach your own bedroom without stepping on to the landing,’ Jemima said.
‘Thank you.’ Rob ran a hand through his hair. ‘I should hate Augusta to see me in such a state of frustration.’
‘And how many more days is it?’ Jemima asked.
She saw Rob smile as he bent to kiss her again. ‘Forty-seven. I fear that our troubles may only be beginning, Jemima.’ His lips brushed hers again. ‘Now that we have started, I am not at all certain that we can stop.’
Chapter Fourteen
Robert and his godfather met at an early hour the next day. Ferdie and Bertie had not even stirred after a heavy night at the local hostelry and Rob was hoping that the other guests would be similarly tardy in rising, at least until he and Merlin had concocted a story that would be acceptable for general consumption. He offered the Duke a cup of strong coffee, took one himself and went to sit down opposite his godfather.
‘I am grateful that you did not greet me with pistols at dawn, Robert,’ the Duke said wryly, pulling an appreciative face as he tasted the coffee. ‘Hmm. This is very good. A vast improvement on the mud served up in your father’s day.’
Rob laughed. ‘It is Jemima’s doing. She has wrought wonders with everything from the poultry to the pantry.’
Merlin nodded slowly. ‘And with you, I think.’ He fixed his godson with a shrewd eye. ‘She has told you everything?’
Rob nodded. ‘Last night. I confess it would have been helpful to know before rather than after the event, but…’ he shrugged ‘…I know now.’
He saw his godfather relax infinitesimally. ‘I imagine that you might have been thinking all kinds of nefarious things about me?’
Rob looked a little shamefaced. ‘Forgive me, sir. Whatever suspicions I harboured about both you and my wife did not withstand the test of my affections. I knew that neither of you could be false.’
Merlin nodded. There was a twinkle in his eye. ‘Nicely put, Robert.’ He laughed. ‘I am glad that you esteem me as much as you seem to admire Lady Selborne.’ His laughter faded. ‘You know, of course, that she is a chimney sweep’s daughter?’
Rob put his coffee cup down a little sharply. He stifled the pang of irritation the Duke’s words raised in him. ‘I do know that.’
He saw his godfather’s lips twitch. ‘No need to take offence, dear boy! It was a statement of fact rather than a judgement. I esteem Lady Selborne very highly. Do you know that she and I discussed philosophy when we first met? She is a credit to Mrs Montagu’s schooling.’ He smiled. ‘I must apologise to her for my somewhat abrupt behaviour yesterday. I should have known that she was not in Burford to cause trouble. A most unfortunate coincidence, I suppose.’
‘Mrs Montagu’s schooling may have been sound, sir,’ Rob said, ‘but it was not so efficient on geography. When Jemima married me she had no notion that Delaval was close to Merlinschase.’
The Duke sighed. ‘Nor that you were my godson?’
‘Indeed, sir.’ Rob shifted. ‘That being the case, I wonder if we might devise some sort explanation that will suit? Not for the immediate family—I thought to tell them the truth, but for curious acquaintance…’
Merlin inclined his head. ‘Did you have anything in mind?’
Rob hesitated. ‘I thought that Jemima’s niece might well be a connection of the family? Some sort of irregular alliance a few generations back could account for it.’
Merlin laughed. ‘Why not? My grandfather was considered a terrible rake. I am sure that one more illegitimate connection would not malign him more than he deserves! And that would be entirely consistent with my acting as guardian to little Miss Tilly.’
‘Excellent, sir.’ Rob grinned. ‘We might go a step further and suggest that that was how Jemima and I came to be acquainted? She was visiting her niece and I met her and was instantly smitten.’
‘Part of that is true at least,’ the Duke said drily. ‘But you feel that you need to tell your grandmother the truth?’
There was a peremptory knock on the study door.
‘I should think so too, Robert!’ Lady Marguerite said, sweeping into the room and giving her hand to Merlin with a gracious inclination of her head. ‘I refuse to be left outside the door like the veriest housemaid! How am I to help dear Jemima if I do not know what is going on?’
She sat down and reached for the coffee pot, ignoring her grandson’s look of amazement.
‘Well?’ she said impatiently. ‘You may speak now, Robert. I am quite agog.’
‘I am most dreadfully sorry about yesterday,’ Letty Exton said, in a rush. She had cornered Jemima after breakfast and asked if the two of them might walk a little together, the day being fine after the thunderstorm the night before. ‘I mean, I am sorry about Augusta’s behaviour, and I am sorry that we went to Burford and—’ her blue eyes were quite stricken ‘—I am most desperately sorry if I have caused trouble for you, dearest Jemima.’
Jemima was touched. Letty had no reason to think well of her and yet, unlike Augusta, she had assumed that the encounter with Tilly had an innocent explanation rather than a scandalous one. Since Rob had explained the entire matter to Lady Marguerite, Jemima felt comfortable in speaking to Letty. Miss Exton was her only friend in her new life, and Jemima was anxious not to lose that friendship. She shook her head.
‘Dear Letty—please stop! What happened yesterday was in no way your fault. Indeed, it was mine, for I should have avoided Burford and the potential embarrassment of seeing Tilly, at least until I had had the opportunity to discuss it with Rob and decide what to do.’
Letty peeked at her from under her bonnet. ‘Tilly—is that her name? She is a prodigiously pretty child, Jemima, and so very like you.’ She clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, I did not mean to imply—’
‘Tilly is my niece, Letty,’ Jemima said, deciding to cut straight to the truth in order to spare Letty further embarrassment. ‘She was born out of wedlock, but had the good fortune to become the Duke of Merlin’s ward. When I married Rob and came to Delaval I had no notion that I would be in such proximity to her, nor indeed that Rob had any connection with the Duke.’ She sighed. ‘You can imagine my mortification when I saw the child and realised that not o
nly did she bear a startling resemblance to me, but that everyone else had seen it too!’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Letty said. ‘A speaking likeness.’ She cast Jemima a look. ‘And then there was the Duke himself…’
‘Oh, yes.’ Jemima smiled ruefully. ‘I can imagine what everyone was thinking there! And meanwhile the Duke was thinking that I was only here to cause trouble! It was a devilishly difficult situation!’
They were walking slowly along the gravel path towards what had once been the lake. All that was visible now was a large pond covered in water lilies, which were curling up at the edges with the approach of autumn. Damselflies hovered above the reeds. Jemima tilted her parasol against the October sun.
‘You had not previously mentioned the matter to Robert?’ Letty ventured.
Jemima shook her head. ‘I had not.’ She gave Letty a little smile. ‘You may imagine how he felt—in common with everyone else, he suspected that Tilly was my daughter. I did not have the opportunity to explain to him until last night.’
Letty shivered. ‘Oh, Jemima! And you looked so composed at dinner, whilst in reality I suppose you were not feeling at all the thing!’
‘It was one of the worst evenings of my life,’ Jemima said with feeling.
‘I hope that all is sorted out with Uncle Merlin now,’ Letty said. ‘I know he is rather frightening at times, but he has a kind heart underneath.’
Jemima thought of the scene that had enacted itself in the library that morning. If the previous evening had been tense and difficult, then the morning had promised to be just as hard in a different way. Fortunately Rob had already smoothed matters over with the Duke and Lady Marguerite, and Merlin at least had been charm personified. Lady Marguerite’s reaction to having a chimney sweep as a granddaughter-in-law was rather more difficult to gauge.
‘All is agreed,’ she said. ‘There is to be an irregular connection between our two families—it is necessarily irregular, I am afraid, to explain the fact that it has never been mentioned before. Tilly is now a distant cousin of mine, and in fact I met Robert through the connection, since he is the Duke’s godson and Tilly is the Duke’s ward.’ She smiled at Letty. ‘It is rather neat, if fictitious.’
The Penniless Bride Page 19
