Clara shivered.
“Your beauty takes my breath away.” His lips lingered just below her ear, the warmth of them ever so delightful.
William didn’t touch her, only his mouth and words. And yet, she felt as if she were in the most intimate of lovers’ embraces.
Next, he touched his mouth to the side of her neck, just below the jawline. His tongue slipped across her skin so lightly that she wondered if she imagined it. “If I were a dying man, I would cling to life just to look in your eyes one last time.” His heated breath fanned over the moist skin and Clara’s eyes closed of their own accord and her legs wobbled, threatening to give out.
She reached for him, but he took her hands in his and held them. He took a small step back.
For a long moment, it was silent. But she knew he was studying her. When she opened her eyes and met his gaze, he smiled.
Before she could wonder what was to come next, he closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was soft, sweet and undemanding.
“It was your lips that first attracted me. I had to know what you tasted like.” He moved to the left side of her throat, and her pulse quickened just as thousands of butterflies took flight in her stomach.
“Oh, my.”
He trailed his tongue from her ear down to the base of her neck ever so slowly, stopping along the way to nibble at her tender skin.
Never in her wildest dreams had she known such delight. That the touch of a man’s lips would cause her entire being to be so aware of the exact place his mouth lingered.
A soft whimper escaped when his hands cupped her face and lifted it. It was then that he kissed her in a different way, demonstrating the difference between allure and desperate want.
“I pray to remain forever in your favor, my beautiful one,” he whispered between kisses.
William’s mouth was hot and demanding, his body pressed hard against hers. And yet, it seemed his body was not close enough. Parting her lips to give him more access, she moaned when his tongue invaded. And still, it wasn’t enough. The suckling noises and the deep rumbling coming from deep in his chest were like fire. A delightful heat trickled from where his hands slid down her back to the very core of her being and she gasped when it pooled in the most intimate of places.
“Oh!” She gasped for breath and clung to him.
William wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I am going to go mad waiting for our wedding night, when I can properly take you as my wife.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Did you like my poem?”
How perfect was he? Clara giggled and moved back, hitting his shoulder lightly. “That was not a poem.”
“It was. I made it up myself,” he said, pretending to be offended.
Clara shook her head. “Very well then, I absolutely loved your poem.”
Hopefully, William would make up such poetry often. Especially if each one would make her feel like she did at this moment.
Chapter Twelve
William looked on as Clara studied her cards. It was late afternoon and the coachman was due to return at any moment with the doctor. However, it was definitely a moot point at this time. Clara was well recovered, the bump on the head no more than a nuisance. Fortunately, she and her maid had not left. Instead, they had waited for Jeffrey and then planned to return to London that very day.
He’d wait an additional day before returning quietly to ensure no rumors were spread.
“Miss Clara,” Molly exclaimed as she rushed into the parlor. “Come look. Carriages are coming.”
Immediately, Clara’s eyes widened. Her mouth fell open and she jumped to her feet, the cards falling from her hands.
“Oh, no!” She raced after Molly to the front windows and William followed.
Sure enough, three carriages moved at a leisurely pace toward the front gates. The first had the Torrington emblem on the door and the second two were unmarked.
His parents. William blew out a breath, unsure of what to think. This was most unexpected. Why would his parents be coming to his estate? And the fact that two additional carriages followed made little sense.
“Is that Clarence?” Molly asked, looking to Clara. “It looks like Clarence.”
“Who is Clarence?” William asked, studying the approaching carriages.
Pale and still wide-eyed, Clara turned to him. “Our coachman.”
They’d been found out. No doubt, the young man, Jeffrey, had been caught and now the families arrived to either murder him or...what other option was there?
They were already engaged and would soon be wed. Yes, that was it. The wedding was about to take place sooner than expected.
“Oh, goodness,” Clara exclaimed. “What should we do? Should I hide?”
He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “We stand here and greet them. Then we withstand whatever scolding they lash us with. Afterward, you will be taken away by your mother for further reprimand in private.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You seem to have everything figured out. How about you go out there and tell them Molly and I have left? Then get your coachman to sneak us away while you distract them with stories of my injury.”
It was hard not to chuckle. His soon-to-be wife would guarantee that he’d never have a dull moment. Instead, he placed a soft kiss to her lips.
“No. We will face this like adults, my lovely fiancée.”
She’d never seen her mother, father and sisters climb out of a carriage so quickly. Her mother practically raced to the front door.
Knowing it was not the time for formalities, William did away with the need for a servant to open the door. Instead, he and Clara stood just inside the open door awaiting their families.
Her mother scowled at William. Then she looked at Clara, assessing her before glaring at her with pursed lips. “You have some explaining to do.”
Behind her mother, Penelope and Vivian hid smiles behind their gloved hands, twinkling eyes going from her to William. They had questions. Clara wanted to laugh. She hadn’t any titillating details to give. Although there was the kissing and the fact he’d slept beside the bed, oh and carried her to breakfast...
“Are you listening, Clara?” Her mother’s snappy tone made her gasp.
“Yes, Mum, I am,” she replied.
Her father had yet to approach. He and William’s father seemed to be discussing what to do, heads close as they remained by the coaches. She loved how her handsome father and the duke seemed to get along so well.
Taken by the elbow, she was led inside by her sisters and they all went directly to the parlor. William’s mother and hers entered the room, both silently standing side by side.
Immediately, a butler and maid, who’d obviously, been in the third coach, dispatched with their cloaks. They left, offering to bring hot tea.
“Please, sit down.” William motioned to the chairs closest to the fireplace. Clara and her sisters squeezed into a settee while the mothers each took a chair.
Her mother turned away from Lady Theresa for a moment. “We will wait on your fathers before discussing this distressful situation.”
“This is so exciting, isn’t it?” Penelope whispered into her ear. “Mother is restraining herself because of the viscount’s parents. She kept raising her voice in the carriage. It was so hard for Vivian and me to keep from laughing.”
A snort escaped Clara, garnering her a glare from her mother and an inquisitive look from Lady Theresa.
“Stop talking,” Clara whispered to Penelope.
Footsteps sounded as the duke, her father and Alexander Yarnsby entered. It seemed wherever Vivian was Mr. Yarnsby was as well. She nudged Vivian with her elbow and her sister returned the gesture, only a bit more forcefully.
The duke met William’s gaze. “Son, can you explain to us why you and Miss Clara were here without an escort?”
William stood by the fireplace and slid a glance to Clara. Then he cleared his throat. “It seems Miss Clara f
ound herself in trouble on her way to her aunt’s home and...”
This was ridiculous. William was trying to spare her. He wasn’t aware that her family would eventually find out the truth. Not because they’d question her until she confessed, but because they never kept anything from one another. It was the Humphries’ curse. Keeping any type of secret had always been impossible.
She jumped to her feet. “Thank you, William, but I will tell it better.” Clara offered him a weak smile before facing the mothers. “I came to spy on him because I thought he’d brought that horrible woman, Rachel Witting, here. Unfortunately, I fell off a pile of wood and injured myself.”
She waited for her mother’s hitched breathing to regulate.
“I planned to go directly to Aunt Bettina’s home once I’d satisfied my curiosity. However, Molly lost her balance and fell on top of me, knocking me unconscious.”
There were several gasps. Clara wasn’t sure if it was the fact she’d passed out or that she’d been spying. It could also be that she’d spoken out loud about William’s lover. She let out a breath and tried to figure out which part she should have left out.
“Yes...well, and why did you remain here?” Her father, bless him, looked about to fall over.
She looked to William who lifted a brow in return. Now wasn’t the time for him to stop speaking. It was his turn to explain that he’d insisted she remain due to her serious injury.
Seeming to finally take the hint, he nodded. “As she said, she was unconscious. I insisted she remain here until a doctor was brought.”
This time, it was her mother who spoke. “And why was Jeffrey sent to the market, where he was caught by Clarence trying to convince Jules to pretend to be a doctor?”
Clara almost laughed at her family’s abilities to get facts. They were much better than any London investigator.
When William gave her an incredulous look, she realized this was news to him as well. She and Moly had made a mess of things.
“I didn’t wish to worry you.” Clara pointed to Molly who shrunk back from the doorway. “It was Molly’s idea.”
“Don’t drag that poor girl into this,” her father said with an uncharacteristic snarl. “You have caused us a great deal of worry and embarrassment with your thoughtless actions.”
At his scolding, her face burned with embarrassment and she could only look at the floor. At her sides, both sisters stiffened. When Albert Humphries got angry, everyone took note. The normally mild-mannered man usually allowed his wife to be the disciplinarian.
“Therefore,” he continued, “if the viscount’s family will still have you, a wedding must take place immediately. I do not trust you to stay out of mischief.” He looked to William. “I hope you are aware of what you’re getting in to.”
“Albert!” her mother cried out. “That was not necessary.” She looked to Lady Theresa. “I’m so sorry. This is most distressful.”
Lady Torrington threw her head back and laughed. “Honestly, this is not as bad as it seems. I don’t blame you, dear,” she said to Clara. “I once followed the duke on horseback to ensure he was not lying about a destination. Unfortunately, I found myself in the middle of a fox hunt.”
Clara wanted to laugh but, after a warning look from her mother, she only smiled and nodded. Penelope, however, wasn’t as deterred. She giggled without care.
Unfazed, Lady Torrington continued, “I think you are just what William needs, dear girl. A wife who will keep him on his toes.”
“I agree,” the duke added and turned his attention to his son. “You must see about a special license. William, you and Alexander must ride to London immediately. We will have a wedding before news spreads.”
William looked to Clara and then back at the gathered parents. “May I speak to Clara in private for a moment?”
“No,” all four parents said at once.
Clara wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if Alexander stifled a chuckle and tried to cover it up with a cough. Both her sisters’ lips were pressed together.
“Very well. Then I will be on my way.” He gave Clara a look she couldn’t decipher. Was it a “you’ll be fine” look? Or perhaps, it was a “now you’ve done it” look. She decided he conveyed more of a “don’t worry, I’ll return as soon as I can” look.
* * *
“Tell us everything.” That night, Penelope draped herself across the bed, her eyes focused on Clara’s face.
“Don’t leave out even the tiniest of details,” Vivian added. Her older sister sat on a chair by the hearth, her clutched hands up against her chin.
Clara practically pranced as she paced across the room. Her sisters’ undivided attention tracked ever single step.
“There isn’t really much to tell, but I will do my best. My heart thundered as if it were about to burst out of my chest as the carriage neared the gates of Lark’s Song...”
Chapter Thirteen
“With this ring, I thee wed...” William’s deep voice was the only sound in the room. His gaze locked with Clara’s, he slid the golden ring onto her shaky finger.
Clara tore her eyes away to look at the young clergyman who, by his moist upper lip and brow, was just as nervous as she was. He’d been the only one available as the older priest was very ill and had taken to bed.
It wasn’t every day a young priest from a small town was called in to marry a duke’s son.
When it was Clara’s turn to say the vows, she managed to get through them without bursting into tears. Not because she was afraid or anything of that sort, but because she’d always imagined her wedding day to be more focused on things like flowers and food and not so much on her.
This was, indeed, a special day. Her sisters had brought a new dress for her to wear and the veil she donned was her mother’s. Since it was much too cold for flowers, Lady Torrington had brought a rosary and a small, beautiful bible to hold.
William was most handsome in his dark coat and cream cravat. The colors set off his dark hair and bright, gray eyes. Standing next to him, she felt protected and safe. It was as if by marrying him, she had never to fear anything.
She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the young priest’s words and inhaling the scent of William. He smelled of pine and outdoors, uniquely masculine and oh so perfect.
Finally, the priest pronounced them husband and wife. Much to her delight, the young man didn’t pass out before announcing they could kiss.
Clara lifted her face to William, her eyelids falling.
The kiss was perfect. It was soft enough not to cause their mothers anxiety and he ended it with a soft, quick nip that made her insides tingle.
Hand in hand, they turned to face their families.
Both mothers wiped away tears and their fathers tried to clumsily calm them. Penelope and Vivian clapped and smiled widely, as did Molly who stood just behind them. Alexander Yarnsby watched from the side without expression, hooded eyes locked on them.
“Let us go to the dining room, shall we?” Lady Theresa led the way.
They were at the Torringtons’ country home now. Everyone had relocated to the larger home from William’s smaller estate while he and Alexander were in London.
It was a beautiful home and Clara itched to explore it once she lived at Lark’s Song.
At the thought, she frowned and nibbled her lip. With everything happening so fast, she’d yet to have a discussion with William regarding their living arrangements and her refusal to remain in London.
No matter, there was time yet.
Everyone was invited to toast, even the staff. Clara was delighted that Molly was more of a guest as she wore a beautiful, simple gown that Clara had bought her for her birthday earlier that year.
The frock was not expensive, but much nicer than most of Molly’s clothes. In truth, all three sisters always ensured the staff received nice gifts and items they normally could not afford.
“You’re not here, are you?” William whispered into her ear as they made their
way to the dining room.
Clara slid a glance to him. “I was thinking of something we must discuss later.”
“Interesting. My mind is entirely on later as well. However, discussion is not part of it.”
It was impossible to keep her eyes from rounding and she inhaled sharply. “I forgot about that. Goodness, I hope you plan to instruct me as to what to do.”
This time, it was William’s eyes that grew wide. “We will talk about it later.”
She let out a long sigh. “Very well.”
* * *
The newlyweds arrived by carriage to Lark’s Song with only Molly, the cook and her husband, the stable hand.
It had been a long day and, by all accounts, she should be exhausted. Instead, Clara’s body tingled with anticipation of what the evening would bring.
Once in the bedroom, Clara hurried to prepare for bed. “Do you have any idea what I should do?” she asked Molly. The maid shook her head.
“No, Miss Clara. I have no idea. I think you should definitely not move. I hear it’s a woman’s duty to endure whatever her husband does.” The maid looked to the doorway. “Will you please tell me everything tomorrow?”
Clara blushed. “I suppose I can. And I will tell my sisters as well. Women shouldn’t go into this blind. Mother gasped when I asked her about it. I’m shocked she didn’t tell me anything.”
“You did ask rather publicly,” Molly replied as she untied Clara’s dress. “I am not sure it was something to be discussed in mixed company.”
“True. However, I did expect she’d spirit me away and speak about it. Instead, she was like a turtle, hiding in its shell.”
Moments later, the door opened and Clara did her best to keep from hyperventilating. Her heart beat rather fast and the butterflies that had insisted on swirling suddenly turned into some sort of floppy mass that sat at the bottom of her belly like a stone.
William studied her for a moment. She lay in the bed like a porcelain doll on display. Molly had pulled her hair back away from her face, tied only with a ribbon so that it fell down her back.
The Appeal of an Elusive Viscount Page 10
