My Elusive Countess

by Carolynn Carey

  He hurried across the side garden and onto the front porch where he tapped loudly on the door. It was jerked open from within, not by a footman or even by Miss Thornton. Instead, standing on the other side of the door was Amanda. She didn’t speak. She simply stared at him as though she had expected him but at the same time was unpleasantly surprised to see him.

  And he found suddenly that he couldn’t speak either. All the words in his carefully rehearsed apology dried up, sticking in his throat until he felt as though he might choke if he tried to force them past his lips.

  For somehow in the past few weeks, he’d forgotten how beautiful she was. But it wasn’t her beauty that was leaving him speechless. It was the fact that she was the one thing in the world that he wanted more than anything else and he had no idea how to undo the horrible wrong he had done her.

  He opened his mouth, hoping inspiration would strike and he could tell her how much she meant to him and how very sorry he was for having driven her into hiding.

  And perhaps—as he was to think later—inspiration really did strike. For instead of telling Amanda how much he’d missed her and begging her forgiveness, he said the one thing that probably kept her from slamming the door in his face.

  “Is there any chance,” he asked, “that I could speak with my mother?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Amanda still did not speak, nor did she smile or nod or indicate in any way that she would ever deign to treat him as though he were slightly above a worm in her estimation, but at least she opened the door more widely and stepped back so he could come in.

  Rebecca Thornton stood in the hallway. Her gaze cut from Amanda to Blackbourne, and then back to Amanda. “What does Lord Blackbourne want?”

  Amanda spoke for the first time. “Would you ask Lady Blackbourne if she is available to see her son?”

  Miss Thornton’s eyes widened for a split second. Then, with her usual calm acceptance, she nodded. “If she’s willing to see him, I’ll bring her to the drawing room.”

  “We’ll wait for you there, then.” Amanda turned to Blackbourne. “Through here,” she said, motioning for him to follow her.

  She led him down a short hallway, then into a room where a sofa and half a dozen chairs were flanked by tables holding lamps and cards and games and needlework. There was nothing elegant about either the dimensions of the room or the furnishings, but obviously care had been taken to ensure that its inhabitants would be comfortable there.

  “Have a seat, my lord,” Amanda said, motioning to a chair, but Blackbourne was too nervous to comply with her request. Instead, he wandered around the room, looking at the furniture and trying to visualize what sort of life Amanda and David had been living here.

  Had they been happy? Had David missed Thomas? Did he have access to a pony to begin his riding lessons? Blackbourne longed to ask Amanda all those questions and more, but considering the responsibilities he’d ignored and the mistakes he’d made, he knew he no longer had that right.

  Then he paused beside a chair that had been drawn up in front of a window as though someone often sat there looking out at the road running in front of the house.

  And on the chair, in a pile of purple, lay a half-finished child’s sweater. He recognized his mother’s handiwork because she’d knitted him a sweater almost identical to this one except for the color. His had been red.

  She had knitted him mittens, too, as he recalled. They’d been a little too large so she tied a long piece of yarn to each cuff and ran the yarn through his coat sleeves so he wouldn’t lose his mittens if they should happen to slip off.

  He knelt beside the chair and gently lifted the knitted piece, bringing it near his face. Sure enough, his mother’s scent clung to it, a fragrance that would always and forever be uniquely hers.

  That fragrance and the feel of the yarn in his hands took him back to a day he hadn’t thought about in years. He wasn’t sure of the month, but there had been a nip in the air and the leaves were changing colors on the trees in the forest that separated Bourne Hall and the Clemmons’ country house. He and his mother had been outside playing and he was wearing the new sweater she’d made for him.

  He wasn’t sure how old he’d been at the time. Six, perhaps. He recalled that he’d grown warm running after the ball he and his mother were throwing, so he’d taken his sweater off and laid it across a stump.

  The afternoon was growing late and a chill was moving in when they heard the sound of horses being ridden hard. Raucous laughter followed. Garath’s father and brothers were coming home and they’d obviously been drinking.

  His mother had run to him, grabbing his sweater off the stump as she passed. She took his hand and dragged him into the edge of the forest behind some shrubs that had not yet lost their leaves.

  “Go visit Anthony,” she told him in soft but frantic tones. “Cut through the woods. You know the way. Ask if you can spend the night and don’t come home until I send for you.” She thrust the sweater into his hands. “Take this. You’ll need it if the weather turns cold.”

  He hadn’t wanted to go. He’d been enjoying himself, and besides, he didn’t like having to make his way through the forest by himself when dusk was almost upon them. But his mother had given him no choice. She pulled him to the pathway and set her hand on his back, pushing him on his way.

  He’d been angry with her but he’d obeyed and the Clemmons family had welcomed him as always. He’d stayed with them for five days before his mother sent a groom to fetch him home.

  When he returned to Bourne Hall, his father and half brothers were gone but his mother kept to her room for a few days, leaving him in the care of the servants. When she finally reappeared, her smile was lopsided because her lip was badly swollen and she favored her right arm to such an extent that she had trouble tossing the ball to him. At the time, he’d not understood how much she’d suffered to protect him.

  Now he could only wonder what else she had endured for his sake and how horrible she must have felt when she was forced to leave him behind.

  For he was now convinced that she’d not left him by choice. He might never know why she’d gone away. He didn’t intend to ask her and make her relive that portion of her life. But he believed with every ounce of his being that she’d not gone willingly.

  Sighing, he dropped the purple sweater back into the chair and turned around, intending to ask Amanda if his mother was knitting the sweater for David, but Amanda had disappeared. Instead, his mother stood in the doorway looking frail and frightened and unbelievably dear to him.

  He took a step toward her, then paused. What on earth could I say to this woman who’d protected me to the best of her ability and then been subjected for years to my bitterness and hatred?

  He pushed his voice past the lump in his throat. “Good afternoon, Mother.”

  She appeared to try to smile but her lips merely twitched for a second and her voice, when she spoke, was almost a whisper. “I had never expected to hear that word on your lips again.”

  Blackbourne opened his mouth to reply, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Instead he walked across the room and paused in front of his mother. Tears were rolling down her cheeks but a smile lifted the corners of her lips.

  “I wish you wouldn’t cry,” he said.

  She smiled more broadly. “You’ve grown into such a handsome man. I was always glad that you have my eyes.”

  “Would you like to sit down?” Blackbourne motioned toward the sofa.

  “Yes, please.” She stepped into the room and Blackbourne took her arm. She appeared almost too frail to walk on her own. Had she always been this small or had the horrors and deprivation of the previous years caused her to shrink in stature?

  He was careful to support her as they made their way to the sofa. After she was seated, he stood in front of her, looking down. “Can I get you anything? A cup of tea, perhaps?”

  Her eyes shone with joy. “I have everything I could possibly want at this moment in time
.”

  He didn’t deserve such love, of that he was certain. And the knowledge that whatever she’d endured during her lifetime had done nothing to lessen her opinion of him, that almost unmanned him.

  He dropped to his knees in front of her. The urge to bend forward and lay his head in her lap as he’d done when he was a boy was great, but instead he simply reached for one of her hands.

  She gave it willingly, continuing to smile through her tears as he lifted it to his lips. “Can you ever forgive me, Mother?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, my son. It’s I who should be asking for your forgiveness. I’ve spent the majority of my life wondering if there wasn’t something I could have done differently. I’ll die wondering that.” She reached with her free hand to cup his cheek.

  He laid his hand on top of hers. “I know you did the best you could and it doesn’t matter now. My father and brothers are gone and we need to put the past behind us.”

  She gently pulled her hand away from his face. “I want to tell you why I left you behind.”

  “If that’s what you really want, then someday I’ll sit and listen. But I don’t need to know the details. I trust you enough to believe that you had no choice.”

  To Blackbourne’s horror, his mother broke into noisy sobs, which brought Amanda dashing into the room. Apparently she’d been standing in the hallway, prepared to intervene should it prove necessary.

  Since his mother had thrown her arms around his neck and was sobbing onto his shoulder, Blackbourne wasn’t able to stand, but he looked up into Amanda’s face. Her jaw was set and her eyes narrowed. She was ready to go to battle on his mother’s behalf and he had never loved her more.

  Which terrified him.

  He loved her. He’d just fully admitted the truth to himself and he knew he was in real danger of losing her forever. He prayed he could repair his relationship with her as easily as he had done with his mother. But when Amanda continued to glare at him and then began tapping her foot, he knew he had his work cut out for him.

  Amanda was furious, but not with Blackbourne. She was angry with herself because, after all he’d put her through, she’d been delighted to see him again. The minute she’d opened the door to him, she realized how many things she’d missed about him—that slight twist to the right side of his mouth when he smiled, the tiny narrowing of his eyes when he was amused and the lowering of his brows when he was annoyed. To her chagrin, she had taken one look at him and longed to throw herself into his arms.

  But she hadn’t, of course. Not that she didn’t trust him. Over the past weeks, she learned enough from Lady Blackbourne about his early years to understand why he’d been so angry with his mother.

  She’d also come to believe that, despite his threats to take David away, he was basically a good man who could be trusted with David’s future. But for her own peace of mind, she hoped to spend as little time as possible in his company.

  Thus, she had no qualms about glaring at him as she spoke. “Why is your mother crying?”

  “You would have to ask her to be certain, but I believe she’s happy.”

  Lady Blackbourne lifted her head off Blackbourne’s shoulder. “You need not worry, my dear Amanda. My son has forgiven me for my shortcomings.”

  Blackbourne took the opportunity to push himself off his knees and stand. “And I am happy to say that my mother has forgiven me.”

  Amanda nodded. “I’m very pleased to hear that. Now, Lady Blackbourne, you must be exhausted. Why don’t you allow your son and me to—”

  A furious banging on the front door interrupted Amanda.

  Lady Blackbourne’s eyes widened and she laid a hand above her heart. “What in the world?”

  Blackbourne stepped in front of his mother and placed a protective hand on Amanda’s arm. “Let me check on that for you.”

  “You may accompany me to the door, but I’m fairly certain I know who our guest is.”

  Blackbourne raised his brows. “Mr. Mason, I assume.”

  Amanda sighed. “No doubt. Let’s respond before he knocks the door down.”

  But Mr. Mason had not waited for someone to answer the door. His heavy footfalls sounded in the hall just seconds before he burst into the room. His gaze cut from Lady Blackbourne’s tearstained face to Blackbourne’s grip on Amanda’s arm and a sound resembling a growl emanated from his throat. Before anyone could speak, he stepped up to Blackbourne and swung a fist toward the marquess’s chin. Blackbourne tried to jump out of the way but lost his balance and fell backward, taking Amanda and a small table with him.

  Lady Blackbourne screamed, jumped to her feet and promptly fainted, slumping onto the sofa behind her.

  Rebecca Thornton ran into the room, her gaze swinging from Lady Blackbourne lying unconscious on the sofa to Amanda and Blackbourne sprawled in an awkward pile on the floor to Mr. Mason standing with his fist held in front of him as though he was practicing for a prizefight.

  She propped her hands on her hips and addressed Mr. Mason. “Sir, I don’t know what you think you are about, rushing in here and creating mayhem. This may be your property, but it is our abode and I am ashamed of your behavior.”

  Looking up from her position on the floor, Amanda watched her uncle Martie’s arm drop to his side while a blush crept from his neck to his face. Then Lady Blackbourne began to stir and both Mr. Mason and Becky rushed to her side. Amanda pushed herself up on her elbow, preparing to get to her feet, but Blackbourne wrapped an arm around her waist and held her down.

  Startled, she turned her head to look into his face and was amazed to see that his eyes were twinkling. “I’m quite aware that the occasion is far from romantic, my dear Amanda, but just in case your Mr. Mason plans to do me bodily harm, I’d first like to say that I love you more than life itself. If you can bring yourself to forgive me, nothing could make me happier than your agreeing to be my wife.”

  Amanda merely stared at Blackbourne. For a second she’d thought he was teasing her, but the twinkle soon died from his eyes and the emotion that replaced it wasn’t as easy to identify. Was it fear? Certainly there was a degree of uncertainty there. Could Blackbourne really be experiencing apprehension? He couldn’t know, of course, that her longing for him had deepened during the weeks they’d been apart. She’d missed his presence in her life more than she could ever have imagined.

  But she hadn’t forgotten her vow to never allow herself to become the property of a nobleman again.

  He pulled her a bit closer. His scent was both distinctive and tempting. She wanted to breathe him in and she wanted to taste him. She snuggled against him, smiling.

  He brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered, sending shivers down her spine. “You must love me back a little bit, Amanda. I can see it in your eyes. So what’s your answer? Will you marry me?”

  She glanced up and saw that Becky and Uncle Martie were occupied in reviving Blackbourne’s mother, so she lifted a hand and gently caressed his face. “Thank you for the very great honor you do me, my lord,” she said softly, “but unfortunately, my answer must be no. I cannot marry you. I am, however, willing to sleep with you at our very earliest convenience.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Blackbourne jerked his head back, breaking the contact between his face and Amanda’s caressing hand. “What the devil do you mean, you won’t marry me but you’ll sleep with me?”

  Her eyebrows shot up, as though she thought he was being purposely obtuse. “Just think, my lord. We both know that widows have considerable leeway. I can take a lover and the ton will not judge me harshly as long as we are circumspect. We can ask Rebecca and your mother to stay at Willow Place to watch over David, and I can reside in London alone. Without a companion, I’ll be free to entertain you without causing a scandal.”

  Blackbourne opened his mouth to object to Amanda’s reasoning but closed it again when he realized that both Mr. Mason and Miss Thornton were now standing above them, staring down.

  Miss Th
ornton spoke first. “Amanda, are you all right, my dear?”

  Mr. Mason spoke next. “I say, my lord, I’m sorry if I was a tad hasty. Is your jaw all right?”

  Blackbourne didn’t want to embarrass the man by admitting he’d merely lost his balance while trying to avoid the blow, so he used the tips of his fingers to gently press around on his jaw for a moment, then moved it from side to side. “No permanent damage done apparently.”

  Mr. Mason heaved a sigh. “That’s a relief. I’m known for a punishing right.”

  Blackbourne nodded solemnly. “I can see why.” He held up his arm. “Give me a hand, will you? Once I get on my feet, I can help Lady Willowvale.”

  “I’ll take care of Amanda,” Miss Thornton interjected, bestowing a glare on Blackbourne that was clearly intended to put him in his place.

  At that moment, his mother pulled herself upright on the sofa. “What’s happening here?” she asked.

  Blackbourne stifled a sigh. No wonder Amanda had refused his proposal. This whole incident could have served as a farce at the local theater.

  But he had no intention of giving up. As much as wanted her in his bed, he wanted her even more in his life forever.

  So he’d bide his time, but he would propose again and somehow he’d convince Amanda to marry him.

  Now that Amanda had identified her goal, she needed to decide on a course of action. She definitely wanted Blackbourne as a lover. She wanted to feel the caress of his hands, the thrill of his kiss, the joy of lying in his arms after he’d made love to her. Even more, she wanted to discover the ways in which a woman in love could bring pleasure to the man she’d given her heart to.

  She didn’t question the fact that she loved Blackbourne. She had loved him for some time, but her first concern would always and forever be her son and she would do all in her power to ensure his happiness. Before she could undertake her campaign to seduce Blackbourne, she needed to be absolutely certain that David would be content returning to Willow Place with Becky and Lady Blackbourne as companions. As it was, Amanda often lay awake fretting about the disruptions he’d endured during his life, and she was prepared to sacrifice her future with Blackbourne if necessary for David’s happiness.