An American for Agnes (The Friendship Series Book 10)

by Julia Donner

  He dared to lift her hand and press her knuckles to his mouth, wishing the damn glove she wore to Hades. He’d love to taste her palm, run his tongue up her wrist. He stopped himself there. “It shall be whatever you wish, exactly as you wish.”

  Now the trick would be to keep his distance from her until the wedding night. It didn’t help his condition that he continued to imagine peeling off the glove, nibbling up her arm and on to other parts. He walked in a combination of elation and misery the rest of the way to Oakland.

  Chapter 18

  Agnes glanced around the reception room filled with visitors, neighbors and friends calling to celebrate and express their approval. It was too late to change her mind. Notices had been sent, the first of the banns read. Effusive congratulations were being poured on Loverton for his splendid choice in taking a local lady to wife. He accepted their good wishes with his usual stiff dignity.

  Her mother was in transports and arranged this celebratory afternoon party. She flitted around the room, offering smiles and refreshments. She touched Max whenever possible, which didn’t appear to bother him. Agnes began to think that he welcomed her attention. Perhaps his adopted mother had not been demonstrative and it was something he wanted. He would certainly have all the affection he could bear up under now that her mother considered him her second son and proudly informed everyone of the family addition.

  It wasn’t until the day after accepting his proposal that Agnes noticed the change in him, an internal calmness, an air of accomplishment. The prowling predator had become more of a quiet, contented cat. After the kiss he’d given her in the lane, he’d not touched her since, unless to take her hand in greeting or offer an arm for escort.

  He presented himself at Oakland every day to be made useful for any of the wedding preparations, did his best to cover the fact that he tended to hover, and ate her with his eyes when he thought her mother looked elsewhere.

  Within herself she noticed a vague nervousness since that wild kiss on the roadside, never having been kissed so thoroughly. Vincent professed to not care for kissing, and she hadn’t much cared for it when he did. As intriguing as the initiation into Max’s version of lovemaking had been, she still had no yen for whatever it was that pushed him to kiss her so...energetically. Even though it had been done on a country lane, it had happened in public. A squirm of uneasiness accompanied the memory due to its possibility of being seen by church service congregants taking the same path, an embarrassing event thankfully averted.

  Distasteful memories of the act of intimacy warred with what she’d experienced with Max. There was no comparison, only extreme disparity. It was as if she’d been asleep and he’d awakened another person hidden inside.

  The more she thought about his unexpected public display, the less shocking it became. Aversion to any kind of intimacy with a man was soon supplanted by something else, a feeling she couldn’t precisely describe and yet left her yearning for the intangible. It took little time to move beyond alarm to fascination, to curiosity and a growing preoccupation with what it would be like with Max.

  She discerned a curious sense of serenity and surety in his company, a consoling awareness of shared thought. They might be across the room from each other and all she had to do was look at him. He comprehended her silent call and would slowly make his way across any space that separated them. He’d take a stand beside or behind her, perhaps pick up a book to glance through, but he would remain by her side, a silent sentinel. And with him so near, she felt connected to him, safe, sheltered from the world’s tribulations. No words were needed. And odder still, she somehow understood what was on his mind, as if they carried on an entire conversation inside their heads with merely a shared a gaze.

  How had this metamorphosis happened? Is this how it had been for her parents, this sense of oneness, and if it had been, how did her mother survive without it?

  A prickling sensation skittered across her upper back, breaking into her bemused thoughts. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Max had rested his hand on the back of her chair, his fingers not quite touching the crest of her shoulder. He didn’t look at her. His attention stayed on the guests. All she could think about was the proximity, his fingertips almost touching. His nearness and that other strange connection they shared relayed his strength and strictly harnessed passion. His solid presence filled her with comfort, and for the first time in a long time, a sense of sanctuary. Max would be her refuge.

  Her only uneasiness came from not being honest about her past. How and when should she tell him the truth? If she confessed, she would damage, perhaps even lose this extraordinary connection. The marvel of what they now shared would be shattered.

  He’d never questioned her about the vulgar allegations said in the inn’s taproom. She cringed every time she thought about her name being bandied, laughed at, and discussed in a tavern. Drunken men exaggerated, which meant whatever had been said would end up grotesquely embellished in the retelling. Yet, there was no hint of the censure she feared would ensue in those congregated here today.

  Perhaps it was as Smith suggested. Her maid had wept because vile things had been said about her mistress, not because they were believed by anyone. The neighborhood had closed ranks against the outsider. Loverton was now considered one of their own. He’d settled the matter of an insult directed at a local lady with swift, public defense.

  The party quickly came to a close when word was circulated that a storm approached, rolling in from the channel. Outer garments were quickly donned, horses and carriages called for, and quick farewells called. In moments, her mother, Max and she stood in a suddenly quiet foyer.

  When she and Max started to follow her mother back to the withdrawing room, she stopped them. “No, you shall not be bothered with the clearing up. There is the additional staff from the village plus our own. Take this opportunity for a moment alone together. There will be very little time for that in the coming days. And Max, you’re off to London tomorrow, are you not?”

  “Only for a few days. I thought to stop in at Asterly House and meet up with Cameron and Lady Bradford. Herd them home, so to speak. I give you my assurance that they and I will return well before time.”

  Her mother plucked a handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it over her nose and mouth. Above the frilly edging, her eyes glittered with happiness. She stood on tiptoe and pressed her cheek to his.

  “You are such a dear thing. Forgive me. I am that overwhelmed, near to bursting. In no time at all, I will have my Cameron and his lovely wife at home, and a wedding! Oh, I had dreamed of this, never daring to believe, and now both of my children will be happily married and to the most lovely spouses a mother could ever wish for.”

  She tucked the handkerchief back inside her cuff, settled her feathers, and adopted a haughty, no nonsense attitude. “There, now. Excessive emotions aside, I must insist that the two of you take advantage of this opportunity to say your goodbyes. By the time you return from London we will be caught up in the crush of final preparations. Off with you. I shall busy myself with the ordering of the servants. You have better things to do, do you not, Max?”

  Her expression was severe while her eyes spoke of mischief. She fluttered with pleasure when Max dropped a swift kiss on her cheek then whispered to Agnes, “Pick up your skirts.”

  Agnes clutched a handful of primrose muslin when he clasped her hand and strode toward the staircase. She hurried to follow his swift ascent and glanced back at her mother, who stood with her hand on the newel post, the handkerchief again pressed to her mouth. She shook it in a shooing motion when Max paused. He sent her a smile and continued the climb.

  How foolish she was to think that her mother hadn’t noticed the heated glances. She’d never been intimidated by his standoffishness, adored him at the outset, and brazenly did what she could to get him for a son.

  Max towed her up the narrow stairway, whirled her through the studio door, and slammed it shut, muttering, “This is the only place
I could think of for privacy.”

  They were both puffing for air. He stared down at her, black eyes burning with a hunger that made her shiver. She lifted her hand, reaching to touch his lapel. He misinterpreted it as agreement and kissed her. When she clutched his shoulders for balance, he lifted her off the floor, crushing her into the hardness of his chest. Instead of feeling trapped, she longed to get closer, to crawl right inside of him. She opened to the lips slanted over hers, inhaling surprise when the heat of his groan sank into her mouth. The world spun and faded. She felt herself sinking while her body sang with a vibrant call for his.

  “Agnes?”

  She blinked, unsteady, swaying. He’d set her down. The floor under her feet felt like a rolling ship. “Yes? What happened?”

  “You fainted, I think. I’m so very sorry. It was very wrong of me to come at you like that. Will you forgive me?”

  “Forgive you? For what? You can’t be blamed for being irresistible. Was that a laugh?”

  He peered at her from beneath playfully beetled brows. “I do that on occasion, you know. You mustn’t let it shock you.”

  When she negated his teasing with a tiny shake of her head, he became serious. “Agnes, don’t give me leave to take advantage if you are unready. Men tend to be thick-headed about such things. We get the bit in our teeth, so to speak, and fail to remember that females aren’t as…robust as we. Dash it, I’m not explaining myself very well. I suppose I should beg your forgiveness and leave it at that.”

  She placed a hand along the side of his cheek, aching from the poignancy, when he closed his eyes and pressed against her palm. It seemed impossible that this proud and stalwart man could possess so much vulnerability.

  “Max, I’m not shocked by what we were doing but by an excess of unexpected emotion. I have never desired before. A man, I mean. Perhaps I should explain. In the past, I’ve been easily led, but it’s never been like the way I feel for you. The way you make me feel. It’s a bit like being carried out to sea.”

  He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Then I shall try my best to not overwhelm you and keep in mind that your name personifies all that is holy and pure.”

  “Please, no teasing, and Max, at my age, I cannot claim complete innocence.”

  “Neither can I. Shall we leave it at that? Come see me off. I’m heading into a fearsome drought. No Agnes for days. Hours. Minutes! You may kiss my cheek at the door, right in front of God and everyone, and I promise not to leap on you like a starving beast.”

  She wanted to tell him that she rather liked it when he acted like that. Her grin faded when she chastised herself for not explaining more while she had the chance. It had been the perfect opportunity. She must find the courage to tell him in explicit terms that she was no longer a virgin but couldn’t bear the idea of seeing the love in his gaze dimmed by disappointment.

  Could there be anything more lowering than what she had allowed with Vincent? She’d thought she loved him, mistook his flattering pursuit for love, and had no idea she was merely a conquest. While professing his love for her, he married another. She’d given him leave to take her innocence, and the utterly shameful part was that now she’d been kissed by Max, she realized that Vincent was even more horrid and selfish than she supposed. Not only had he used her willingness to please himself, the way he’d accomplished it proved that he’d never felt anything for her but as that of a receptacle for his lust. His continued attentions had everything to do with a spoiled creature being denied, not his desiring her specifically. To him, she was little more than a treat once sampled generating a demand for a second helping. Again, there was no comparison between the two men. To do so would be an insult to Max.

  She stood on the gravel drive, masking despair with a cheery smile, as Max respectfully pecked her cheek in farewell. Inside, she felt like weeping from the tame salute, knowing that what he wanted to do was devour her like the starving beast he’d described. She loved his sense of humor, his kindness and passion, the way he truly adored her and wanted to make her happy. Telling him would bring relief, but how could she break his trust, his heart, and what was left of hers?

  She waved her handkerchief and watched the shining knight of every girl’s dream ride away. He reined in at the end of the lane and turned in the saddle to wave. God help her, perhaps she could pretend to be physically innocent and he wouldn’t suspect. She didn’t know which was worse, her cowardice or the deception.

  Chapter 19

  From the end of the lane, horns sounded the arrival of a carriage. Agnes pressed her nose to the glass to peer out of a studio window. A chaise roll to a halt and her brother stepped down. He held out his upturned palm, which was taken by a gloved hand. Viewed from above, only the crown of the lady’s bonnet could be seen. Her heart knew without seeing and cried out in happy recognition.

  Agnes shouted, “Allison!”

  They couldn’t hear her or her frantic tapping on the glass. She dashed out of the studio and down flights of stairs. Her brother and his wife were removing outerwear as Agnes flew across the space and flung her arms around her sister-in-law.

  With a soft laugh and tender-eyed grin, Allison withdrew to study Agnes, whose heart melted. It had been too long since she’d basked in her sister-in-law’s solemn affection. Allison was home. The same pale blue eyes, rich brown hair and serene demeanor. How she’d missed her and her strangely soothing and invigorating aura. Her brother called it a healing affect—an inexplicable mystery that had little to do with why he’d married this self-contained, unassuming woman, but everything to do with her midwife vocation. Allison had known since childhood that she’d been put on the earth to heal and care for others. The palm that cupped Agnes’s cheek chased away worry, replacing anxiety with comfort.

  “What is wrong, Aggie? Have I been absent for so long that you thought me dead?”

  Her brother said, “No embrace for me, Sis? I’m blood-bonded. She isn’t.”

  After giving Cameron his due, Agnes asked him, “Did you enjoy your stay at Ravencourt?”

  He ran his fingers through his hat-creased hair then curved a hand around his wife’s waist. “Only there for one night to fetch my traveling wife. Then we went up to London to visit Perry and Elizabeth. Loverton was waiting with your news. Looked ready to burst with it. Are you sure, Aggie?”

  She avoided his concern with a quick nod and looped her arm through Allison’s to ask her, “And Lady Ravenswold’s confinement?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea why I bother to attend her. She delivers children into the world the way a cook turns out dinners. One right after the other and continues to ride until it becomes uncomfortable.”

  “Rave spoils her ridiculously,” her brother muttered.

  Agnes shot back with funning indignation, “And you don’t do the same? What other husband would allow his wife to gallivant over all of England?”

  He handed a leather document folder to a footman. “Can’t be helped. She’s the best midwife in the country. I’m grateful she’s only attending family and friends.”

  Agnes poked a finger into her brother’s tummy. “Cameron, I adore you, but you’re in the way. You’ve had Allison all to yourself. Now is my time. Come along, sister. Let’s have a delicious coze while they bring up your boxes.”

  After they deposited the baggage, Allison chased off the footmen then sent away her maid. Agnes sat on the bed scattered with a welter of partially unpacked clothes and medical tomes, not knowing where to start.

  After washing her face and hands, Allison turned to Agnes. While drying her hands, she made a penetrating scrutiny.

  “So you are to marry the long-lost heir.” Allison folded and draped the towel over a rack, and with her back turned, said, “And you haven’t told him about the affair and child you lost.”

  “I can’t talk about that.”

  “Understandable. You grieved for that loss, even though you carried the baby for only two months. You know, Aggie, that we would have helped you find
the means to keep the child.”

  “Yes, but Cameron and mother have been through enough turmoil and heartache.”

  “Your brother survived more than anyone should in a lifetime. He would find it no hardship to stand by your side when you needed him most.”

  “My point is that he shouldn’t be made to endure more. He should live out his life with you in peace. And to be honest, I grieved more because I felt so relieved. Relieved, Allison! How utterly wretched I felt about that! And certainly I know that there are stratagems for having a baby out of wedlock, but it’s so difficult for the child of an unwed mother. The stigma is never washed away from the sins of the mother.”

  “You are not the first woman to have to contend with an unwanted pregnancy nor will you be the last. God had pity on you both and rescued her from this mortal coil.”

  “Her? You think it was a girl?”

  “I had that impression, yes.”

  Agnes bolstered her backbone. Her sister-in-law’s meaningful gaze relayed what she was going to say before it was said. “Loverton deserves the truth, Aggie. You know this, and it must be done.”

  When her chin began to tremble, Agnes pinched her lips to subdue it. The mere mention of confessing to Max caused panic to rush up and clog the words in her throat. “Oh, Allison, how can I? He’ll not be able to understand.”

  “Having spent some time with your intended, I feel obliged to disagree. From his conversation, I gathered that Loverton has a remarkably open heart. All crust and business on the outside, of course, but inside, he’s a person of steady character. I know that you shouldn’t need my impression of the man you will marry, but I can say with confidence that you will be gaining a friend as well as a husband.”

  “What was said?”

  “You know how protective your brother is. He pestered Loverton over and over to reveal who had hurt you. It certainly hasn’t escaped his notice how you’ve changed.”