by Cheryl Holt
He'd convinced himself that it was what he wanted, and he'd advised Kate that their liaison was finite, but with reality beating down on him, he was stricken at the thought of her departure.
His nights loomed, a solitary, quiet expanse that she'd imbued with passion and laughter. How could he persevere without her? Yet it wasn't fair to Regina to lead her on, to feign excitement where none had been generated.
He never should have let Pamela persuade him into allowing their visit. It had been folly from the outset.
"I have no plans for her." The women bristled, and more gently, he added, "We would be a terrible match— as I'm sure you recognize. Please avail yourself of our continued hospitality for the next week, but after that, it will be best if you return to Doncaster." He stood and downed his brandy. "I trust you will make my apologies to Lady Melanie."
He marched out, and Pamela hesitated, then chased after him, following him out of the house and into the drive. An argument was pending, and he was happy to
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oblige her, but he detested that she would vent their private quarrel in front of the footmen.
"Marcus!" she called when he would have clambered into his carriage.
He whipped around, his fury and antipathy abundantly clear. "Say it fast, Pamela. I'm in no mood for more of your shenanigans."
She smiled, pretending all was well. "We didn't have our conversation about my monthly financial requests."
"Each and every one is denied."
Money—or the lack of it—always riveted her attention, and any pretense of civility was abandoned. "She demanded a meeting. I couldn't tell her no."
"Why not?"
Pamela struggled for a reply he'd accept, ultimately choosing, "She deserved an audience."
"And now she's had it."
"You can't send them home."
"I can, and I have."
"You never gave the bloody girl a chance."
"She didn't merit one. I can't fathom why you selected a candidate who is so unsuitable for me."
"What—precisely—is it that you would deem to be suitable for your exalted self?"
"We could start with an individual who isn't a child and who has a personality."
Pamela fumed, her mouth pursed in an unbecoming grimace. "Am I to pull another fiancée out of my hat? Like a magician at a fair?"
"What you do—or don't—has ceased to matter to me."
"What about our"—she caught herself—"your inheritance? The clock is ticking toward your birthday."
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"I don't care if you and I end up living on the streets. I really, really don't."
"Bastard!" she hurled.
'Tut, tut, my dear. There's no need to question my antecedents. I'm positive my parents were married before I was born."
Her hostility unmasked, she trembled with rage. "I won't let you fritter away like this."
"I don't see how you can stop me."
"I'll ruin you! I'll fight you in the courts. I'll take you for every penny you have. I'll... I'll..."
She couldn't conjure up any other threats, and her blustering slid off like water. There was no way to force his hand. "Why don't you find yourself a rich husband, so that I can pry your greedy fingers out of the Stamford coffers?"
"You're a cruel beast!" she seethed.
"Yes, I am."
"I hate you!" She whirled away and ran inside, slamming the door so hard that the windows rattled.
He climbed in the coach, settled himself against the squab, and relaxed as the horses trotted away.
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"I wish you wouldn't bother Lord Stamford with my troubles."
"Why?" Chris queried. "He's really a very nice fellow, once you get past the bluster."
"Still, it embarrasses me. Please promise that you won't confide in him again—about me or Selena."
"We need his advice, Kate. There's something shady about Selena's money."
"I doubt you could get him to pay any attention to the situation. He assumes—as with everyone in London—that we're a couple of country bumpkins."
"We are country bumpkins. That's why he'll help us. We're like fish out of water."
"I've written to her solicitor, Mr. Thumberton, about the discrepancies. Your mother had the letter delivered last week. I'm wailing to hear from him about an appointment."
"That's well and good, but Stamford is available immediately."
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"I don't want his assistance!" she insisted, with more bitterness than was necessary.
"Why don't you like him?"
"I just don't, and I won't have you pestering him."
"All right," he concurred, as their carriage rattled to a halt. "I won't approach him," which was a lie to soothe her ruffled feathers. Whether Kate liked it or not, Chris intended to parley with Marcus as soon as he had the chance. Despite what was whispered about him, Stamford was very shrewd, very smart, and Chris was positive he'd have many excellent ideas as to how they should proceed.
In the interim, he'd prepared to move Selena into a more suitable neighborhood, and he'd cover her bills until the fiscal mess was resolved.
He peeked out the curtain, gazing at Selena's dilapidated apartment building. "Before we go inside, I have a question for you."
"I won't answer it," Kate retorted, "until you apprise me as to how you cozied up to Selena, and how you found out she's my sister."
"I asked her if she was."
"When?"
"After I brought you there the first time, I returned on my own." She scowled, and he laughed. "Are you satisfied?"
"But why would you?"
"Because she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen"—he blushed at the admission—"and I couldn't resist."
Kate groaned. "Your mother will kill me."
"Why?"
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"Selena is my dirty little secret, and Regina aided me in arranging her affairs only after I swore that I'd never reveal her existence to a single soul. If she learns that the two of you are acquainted, she'll have an apoplexy, and she'll blame me."
"Before all's said and done, I imagine she'll have more than an apoplexy."
"What do you mean?"
"May I pose my question now?"
"I suppose you may."
In a dither, he straightened his cravat and shifted on the seat. His entire life, his mother had handled the important decisions. She'd managed his assets, had hired and fired his employees, had wrangled and finessed himself and Melanie so that things always went her way.
At age eighteen, and almost nineteen, his heritage weighed heavily on his shoulders. He didn't like how Regina acted or how she treated others, and he loathed the air of tension and distrust that she'd fomented at Doncaster.
He was ready to initiate a transformation, to render his own solutions, but this was the biggest decision ever. It was shocking; it was outrageous, and he'd discussed it with no one, had sought no counsel. Was it for the best? The recipes for disaster scared him witless, but he had to determine his own fate, had to establish his independence.
A vision of Selena flashed in his mind, of her as they'd danced at the masquerade ball, and his heart swelled with pride and joy. He might be young and untried, but in this he wasn't mistaken. He could arrive at no better choice, not for himself, and not for the people of Doncaster.
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"You're Selena's guardian."
"Yes, I am."
He cleared his throat. He'd repeatedly rehearsed his speech, but he hadn't realized it would be so difficult to recite.
"So I need to... that is.. .1 wish to..."
"For pity's sake, Chris. Spit it out."
"You like me, don't you, Kate?"
"You're terrific."
"I'll be a worthy husband, wouldn't you agree?"
"Absolutely."
"I was hoping that was your opinion. Miss Duncan," he formally requested, "may I have Selena's hand in marriage?"
Kate gasped. "No. Your m
other would murder us both."
"I don't care about my blasted mother!" he sharply remarked.
"This is so sudden, so unexpected."
"It is."
"You can't have thought it through."
"But I have."
"How can I grant my permission?"
"I'm inquiring as a courtesy, Kate," he gently explained. "I want you on our side, but we'll forge ahead, no matter your reply. Don't have me shame her by eloping."
She studied him as if he were speaking in a foreign language. "You've known her for what? Five days?"
"As have you. Can you seriously tell me I'm wrong?" He had to persuade her! With her as his ally, they could face down Regina. "Think of what it would be like to have Selena at Doncaster, as my countess. With
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her there to help me, we could institute so many changes."
The picture he painted was painful to her, and she leaned into the squab and massaged her temples. "I appreciate that you don't want to talk about Regina, but Chris, you can't have fully considered the ramifications of crossing her. She'll never allow the match, and she'll do whatever she can to stop you."
"Don't worry about Regina." He was growing more confident by the moment. "I want to be happy, Kate. Selena makes me happy. Say yes."
For a lengthy interval, she was silent, contemplating and reflecting, and finally she murmured, "I don't have many memories of my mother, but Selena reminds me of her."
"It would be so fitting to have her at Doncaster. I believe your mother would have liked Selena's being there."
She stared him down, searching for his resolve. "Are you sure?"
"I love her, Kate. More than life itself. Give me your blessing."
With a sigh of resignation, she relented. "As if I could refuse you."
He let out a whoop of glee, flung open the carriage door, and leapt out, but he was too impatient to delay as she tottered along behind him. At the apartment, they'd been watching for him, and before he could knock, a maid answered. He swept past her and toward the parlor, as Selena rushed out.
"Chris, you're here!"
He kissed her on the cheek, maintaining some decorum in front of her servants. "I told you I'd come at two."
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"Some men visited me. They said you'd sent them."
'They're moving you on Friday."
"To where?"
"I've taken rooms for you at the Carlyle Hotel, just until we locate something more appropriate."
Kate caught up to him, and Selena sparkled with delight. "Kate! Kate!"
She ran forward and hugged her sister, and though Kate was disconcerted by the display of affection, her fondness for Selena was too strong to ignore, and she hugged her back.
"Hello, Selena. It's so good to see you again."
"And you," Selena responded. "What a grand afternoon! I have both of you all to myself!"
"We need to chat," Chris advised her, and he guided her into the parlor, as Kate trailed after them. Selena flashed her a curious look as to whether she was aware of what he planned, but Kate kept her expression carefully blank.
Too nervous to dawdle, he escorted Selena to the sofa, fell to his knee, and clasped her hand. "My darling Selena..."
Overwhelmed by emotion, he couldn't finish the sentence.
"What is it, Christopher?" she asked.
"You are the finest woman I've ever met."
"How sweet. Grazie."
"I've known you less than a week, but I feel as if it's been a thousand years."
"I feel the same."
“Would you ... would you ... do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Tears welled into her eyes. "Oh, Chris ... oh . .."
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Terrified that she might spurn him, he hurried on. "I'm not claiming it won't be difficult. We'll have to deal with my mother, and my sister, and as my countess, you'll have many burdens. But I'll be standing by your side, and I'll always be your best friend."
"Of course you will."
"And I promise that I'll be a true and faithful husband, and I will love and cherish you till I take my last breath. Will you have me?"
She peered at Kate. "Is it all right with you?"
"Nothing would bring me more joy." Kate's eyes glistened with a few tears, too.
Selena turned to him. "Then, yes, I will have you, my dearest Christopher."
"You'll never be sorry."
"No, I never will."
Selena rested her palm on his cheek, which warmed and comforted him, and he could feel her heart beating, pounding in a rhythm with his own. In complete accord, it sealed their pact, joining them together as no vows ever could.
A ray of sunshine burst through the window, encasing them in its bright glow, making it seem as if heaven had approved. Recognizing that his world could never be more perfect than it was at that very instant, he offered up a prayer, for Selena and the many children they would have.
******************
The door to Christopher's room was locked, so Pamela took her key and used it to admit herself.
Foolish boy! she mused. As if he could bar her, in her own house!
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He'd been out for hours, arriving home very late, and she was furious. He'd missed a special supper invitation, so she'd been forced to attend with Regina and Melanie, and after their earlier debacle with Stamford, civility simply hadn't been possible.
Pamela wanted them gone, but she couldn't kick them out until she'd convinced Chris to stay in London.
In light of Marcus's comments about Melanie, drastic measures were warranted. Pamela had to stabilize her future, and she couldn't rely on him.
For fourteen years, she'd been beholden to one Stamford male or another, and where had it landed her? With no property, no assets, and not a penny to her name. That's where! Not even her clothes were her own.
She'd laid her cards on the table with Regina, had pledged to deliver Marcus's head on a platter, in exchange for Regina's permitting her pursuit of Christopher. The old bat had enthusiastically agreed, having grasped that if there was anyone in London who had a chance at persuading Stamford, it was Pamela.
Yet, after his curt disavowal of Melanie, Regina had accused her of false negotiations, of reneging on their bargain. With Regina so irate, Pamela couldn't count on her keeping her word. Regina couldn't be trusted, and Pamela realized that she'd finally stumbled upon someone more ruthless than herself.
It was time to assume control of her own destiny. She desired Chris. For his fortune, and his title, but for himself, too. No man could satisfy her as he did. She was pining away, fantasizing and moping.
She had taught him so much, had given so much of herself, but he continued to be cool and detached,
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keeping a subtle wall erected between them. Their interactions were highly charged and passionate, but when they were concluded, he buttoned his trousers and departed, leaving her with the impression that his fondness wasn't increasing, and she couldn't bear the notion.
Before Regina herded them to Doncaster, Pamela had to secure her situation. Christopher needed a reason to remain behind, and she intended to be that reason.
She could make him love her! She just knew she could. As an unsophisticated child, he couldn't fight her steely determination. Despite the cost, she would have him for her own, and no one was going to stand in her way.
A footman had notified her that he'd rung for a bath, and she could distinguish the scent of soap and hot water emanating from his dressing room. She sauntered over and peeked in. He was relaxing in the tub, his glorious blond hair washed and pushed off his forehead, his skin slippery and wet.
"Hello, Chris."
"I thought I heard you." He sighed. "Pam, when I lock my door, most people would take it to mean that I don't wish to be disturbed."
"You would keep me out?"
"What do you want?"
"Can't you guess?"
She slithered out of her rob
e, her lush figure vividly outlined by her negligee. He scrutinized her torso, his torrid gaze following her as she walked to the dresser and deposited the wine and glasses she'd brought.
While he might pretend no interest, might act aloof and grumble over her presence, his body couldn't lie.
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If she reached under the bathwater, he'd be hard as a rock.
Her back was to him, so he couldn't see what she was up to as she removed the cork from the vial of love potion the apothecary had sold her. The mixture was dark red, and it had an earthy odor. She dumped an equal amount into each goblet, added some wine to conceal the drug, then faced him.
He'd exited the tub and was wrapping a towel around his waist, shielding his privates from view, but she could detect the tempting bulge where his erection prodded the fabric.
She smiled. "Will you join me in a nightcap?"
He accepted the glass but didn't drink from it. "You have to quit visiting me," he scolded. "I can't have my mother finding out about us."
"What if she did? Would it be so awful?"
"If we're discovered, there will be a big fuss, which I couldn't abide."
"Let's not worry about it now."
She sampled hers, liking the musky flavor the tincture had supplied. As if the tonic was urging her on, she eagerly gulped it down. Her serving was empty, but he still hadn't raised his, and she began to fret that he wouldn't. He could be such a Puritan!
"Don't be a spoilsport," she coaxed. "I've missed you all day."
She traced the rim of his cup, seducing him with her eyes. From the first, he hadn't been able to resist her, and this occasion was no different. He considered refusing; then he swallowed it down.
He smacked his lips, and ran his tongue over his teeth. "It tastes odd."
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"It grows on you." She gestured to his goblet. “Try another sip."
Shrugging, he complied. "It's not so bad."
She smirked, silently cheering her scheme and buoyed by the prospects for success. 'To us, darling. May all our dreams come true."
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