The Touch of Love

by Platt, Meara

  Lord Jameson came around to sit on the other side of her. “Are you anything like those sisters of yours? I hear you’re all named after flowers. The eldest girls did quite well for themselves.”

  “I believe you are referring to my cousins. And yes, we are named after flowers.”

  “Soft and beautiful,” he murmured.

  “Intelligent and compassionate, I hope. We are neither delicate nor mere ornaments to adorn a man’s arm. I fully expect my cousin, Lily, to become the first female Fellow in the Royal Society.”

  “I daresay she will not,” the Duke of Winthrow intoned. “Impertinent, ill-mannered girl. I shall never cast my vote for her.”

  “Why not, Your Grace? Oh, I know she’s young still and only beginning her scientific research in earnest. But in time, you’ll recognize her brilliance and be as proud of her as we all are.”

  Lord Jameson drained his glass of wine and held it out for a footman to pour more. “And what is your flower, Miss Farthingale?”

  “Poppy.”

  Nathaniel emitted a soft growl, not liking the way Jameson was looking at her. As though he wished to pluck her petals.

  Over his dead body.

  Or rather, Jameson would be the one found dead if he ever laid a hand on Poppy.

  Penelope guided the conversation to safer ground, reviewing tomorrow’s planned entertainments. “Tea and archery for the ladies. Riding and hunting for the men.”

  “But what’s to be our sport for this evening?” Lord March asked, turning to Poppy. “I’ll deem it an honor to partner with you, whatever game it is.”

  “Welles, I claim you,” Charlotte said.

  By her tone, Nathaniel knew she meant it in more ways than a genteel party game. He’d talk to Charlotte later. “We’ll play whist.” He ordered Soames to set up card tables in the salon.

  He partnered with Charlotte for no other reason than to keep her from menacing Poppy. To his surprise, Poppy appeared to be handling Jameson and March quite well without any assistance from him.

  The men were behaving themselves, but for how long?

  “Welles, do pay attention,” Charlotte said with marked impatience. “It’s your turn.”

  The card games ended well past midnight, and his guests finally retired to their chambers.

  Nathaniel was tired and eager for sleep by the time he closed up the house and returned to his quarters. As he entered, he realized he was not alone. Charlotte was naked in his bed. “Let the real sport begin,” she purred, beckoning him to her.

  As she motioned to him, the sheet slipped down to expose her breasts.

  His low brain didn’t respond.

  He wasn’t surprised.

  Having made his choice, he had moved beyond the primitive brain function. Poppy was the girl he wanted.

  “With your father next door? I don’t think so.” He reached for the nightgown she’d tossed on the floor. “Get dressed. Go back to your own room. Don’t come in here again.”

  She tipped her head as though confused. “Will you join me in my room?”

  “No. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Play with someone else, Charlotte.”

  “It’s her. You want her.” Her gold curls fell over her bare shoulders as she tossed her head back in indignation. “I see. She’s your bed mate now and I’ve interrupted your party.”

  “Nothing of the sort.” He handed her the nightgown and repeated his request to put it on.

  She grabbed it out of his hands and donned it. “You’ll regret this.”

  Oh, he already regretted inviting her and her father. It was his punishment for being too arrogant and pigheaded to see the treasure in front of him. Poppy had always been there. All he had to do was look.

  He would pay for it now. Charlotte would see to it.

  He walked to the door and eased it open. “Hallway’s clear. Leave now.”

  She cast him a malicious grin and strolled out.

  He watched her saunter down the hall, but instead of entering her guest chamber, she knocked on the door next to it. “Miss Farthingale, I need your help.”

  Poppy must have been awake and not yet in bed, for she quickly opened her door. “What is it, Lady Charlotte? I…” She caught sight of Charlotte in her scanty nightgown and then noticed him standing with his arms crossed over his chest by his door.

  Charlotte cast him a gloating smile before turning to Poppy. “He’s delicious, isn’t he? I hope you don’t mind sharing him with me this weekend. But rest assured, he is mine. He will marry me and then you will no longer be welcome here.”

  Charlotte hurried into her room as Nathaniel stalked down the hall to put an end to the foolishness.

  Poppy stared at him, her mouth agape.

  “You can’t possibly believe I invited her into my bedchamber.”

  Poppy shut the door in his face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Poppy ignored the soft knocks at her door while she took a deep breath and then another to steady herself. “Go away, Nathaniel.”

  She didn’t believe he had invited Charlotte into his bed.

  But Charlotte had gone there anyway.

  Nathaniel had tossed her out, but how many other girls like Charlotte would come along? Would Nathaniel be as adamant in booting them out of his bedchamber? In her heart, she knew the answer. Yes, he would boot them out. Once he was married, he would never be unfaithful to his wife.

  But could she be that wife?

  She’d watched Penelope and seen how effortlessly she’d entertained their guests, how unruffled she appeared to be by their early arrival. Goose would have managed with equal ease. They were to the manor born.

  But she hadn’t been.

  She was a merchant’s daughter, and his Society friends were wondering what she was doing here.

  She sank onto her bed, feeling defeated. And angry with herself for giving up so easily. And angrier with herself for not understanding that she was an outsider and not likely to be accepted in the finer circles without a battle.

  Well, if her cousins had managed it, so could she.

  She lit a candle to cast some light as she began to pack her things, intending only to move across the meadow to Gosling Hall for the weekend. She wasn’t running away so much as freeing Nathaniel from the burden of having to defend her presence here to his friends.

  Moonlight filtered into her bedchamber so that the clash of amber candlelight and silver moonlight gave the room a magical glow. She’d spent her summers in this room ever since she was a little girl. She loved it here and it saddened her to leave even for a few days.

  She had no intention of imposing on Goose and Beast beyond the weekend. Of course, they would invite her to stay for as long as she wished. It wouldn’t be long, just until Nathaniel’s friends returned to London.

  She tried to convince herself it was for the best.

  She didn’t fit in.

  Lord Wycke and his family weren’t so bad, but they were the only ones she could abide. Lord Jameson and Lord March had gawked and leered at her all evening. Charlotte and her father had looked down their noses at her, and when they were not sneering at her, they were pointedly ignoring her.

  His other friends did nothing but complain. First about their travels, then about the hastily prepared food they had been served. Never mind they’d appeared unannounced, and poor Cook had been on her feet since early morning working diligently to prepare for tomorrow’s festivities and the grand party on Saturday evening.

  The hastily prepared food was delicious. Nathaniel’s friends still found fault with it. When they weren’t complaining, they were speaking of their horses and phaetons or going on about the difficulty in finding decent servants.

  Not once did they speak of weighty topics.

  There was no mention of the soldiers returning from war who needed to be fed and housed. Nor did they concern themselves with the widows and children of soldiers who’d died in battle.

  She understood this was a weekend part
y and did not expect them to engage in important conversations, but to show not a whit of compassion for anyone other than themselves was too much for her to bear.

  Not once did they acknowledge her, for they’d taken their cues from the Winthrows and were not going to accept her as one of them. In truth, she hoped never to become like them.

  Before retiring, she made it a point to go to the kitchen and personally thank Nathaniel’s staff.

  She couldn’t help it.

  She was not so far removed from the Sherbourne servants.

  Merchant’s daughter. Charlotte and her father had gone to great lengths to remind her of her station.

  She was about to douse her candle and retire to bed when she noticed someone had slid a note under her door. She crossed the room and picked up the square of white paper off the floor. Meet me in the library. N.

  Sighing, she tossed the note on her bed, donned her robe and slippers, and then picked up her candle to light the way as she walked downstairs in search of Nathaniel.

  She did owe him an explanation for why she was moving to Gosling Hall in the morning. Also, she wished to assure him that she was not angry with him and she trusted him.

  Instead of Nathaniel, she was surprised to find Lord Jameson standing in the library. He’d removed his jacket, vest, and cravat. His elegant shirt, made of the finest lawn, Savile Row, no doubt, was untucked and open to reveal his hairy chest. If he thought that a dark spray of hair against ghostly pale skin was appealing to her, then he was sadly mistaken. “Come to me, my little minx.”

  He reached out to take her in his arms, but she skittered behind one of Nathaniel’s sturdy leather chairs. “Are you mad? What are you doing here?”

  He lunged for her, but she darted behind Nathaniel’s desk. “Don’t play coy. You asked me to meet you here.”

  Poppy gasped. “No, I didn’t. I assure you most heartily, I did not.”

  He stopped chasing her and frowned. “You wrote me a note.”

  She shook her head, realizing they’d both been set up. “No, it’s a trick. We’ve been played for fools. Get out quickly, my lord. Someone is about to walk in on us and expose us as lovers. So, unless you wish to be married to a woman with little dowry, then I suggest you gather your clothes and climb out the window as fast as you can.”

  “You have no money?”

  “Sadly, no. I’m the poor relation everyone pities.”

  He cast her a wry grin. “Miss Farthingale, you are too beautiful to pity and you would not get me to run if my circumstances were other than what they are. Unfortunately, I am in need of an heiress.”

  “Then disappear quickly, Lord Jameson. I hear footsteps down the stairs.”

  He gathered his clothes in his arms and made it out the window a few moments before Nathaniel burst in. He glanced around and saw she was standing alone. “Thank goodness,” he murmured, running a hand raggedly through his hair. He shut the door behind him and then started toward her.

  She noticed he had also shed his jacket, vest, and cravat, but he cut a much finer figure than Lord Jameson. His shirt was neatly tucked in and the fine lawn fabric hugged his muscled arms and enhanced the broadness of his chest. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I thought you’d sent me a note asking me to meet you here.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t.”

  “Then what brought you down here?”

  “I knocked at your door.” He arched an eyebrow. “The one you slammed in my face.”

  She winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He cupped her face, his manner achingly gentle. “I should have expected her mischief. But I didn’t want you thinking the worst. I returned to your room in the hope you would allow me to explain. Then I got worried when you didn’t respond to my knock. I walked in and saw the note on your bed.” He looked around once again. “I thought Charlotte had set you up to be ruined.”

  “She had. You’ll be pleased to know your friend she intended to set up with me is not as depraved as Charlotte believes.”

  He frowned. “Which friend?”

  “I’m not going to tell you yet. He didn’t harm me. He didn’t set a hand on me. I had no need to use the tricks of defense you taught me, but I would have if the need arose.” She cast him a look of pride. “Fingers to the eyes. Fist to the throat. Knee to his… delicate parts.”

  “Poppy, don’t protect him from me.”

  “I’m not. He didn’t do anything. I won’t have you pounding an innocent man to dust as you did that villain, Captain Gordon.”

  “Other than that wastrel Gordon, I am not in the habit of using my fists to resolve disputes. Was he dressed?”

  Heat immediately rose in her cheeks. Drat, she was blushing. Why couldn’t she be aloof and mysterious? But no, she was expressive. She gave everything away. “He had on his shirt and pants, just like you.”

  “Buttoned?”

  Her eyes suddenly rounded in alarm. “Nathaniel! If I’ve been set up to be ruined, then you’re the one they’ll find with me.” She shoved at his solid chest. “You must go.”

  He laughed and folded his arms across his chest. “No.”

  She may as well have been pushing against a brick wall. “Stubborn man, why won’t you budge? Don’t you understand? You’ll be forced to marry me.”

  He nodded. “I understand perfectly. But no one will force me.”

  “Of course, they will. The Farthingales? Are you serious? There’ll be a hundred rifles pointed at your throat. And that’s just my family. Beast and Thad will hold you down at the altar if they must. Penelope will shoot you between the eyes if you don’t.”

  He turned and latched the door, then propped a chair against it for good measure. “No one will disturb us now.”

  “Nathaniel, are you not listening to me?”

  He strode to the window and drew the curtains shut. “Hearing your every word, my love.”

  “Your–” She shook her head, confused. “What did you just call me?”

  He grinned. “You heard me. Or were you not listening to me?”

  “I’ve been listening, looking, and finally thinking. This isn’t the sort of life I want, Nathaniel. I don’t mean you or Penelope or Goose. I love all of you. Lavinia, Thad, Beast, and Pip, too. These summers have been idyllic, but they’re not real. Being called Lavinia’s companion and questioned about my place at the table, that’s real.”

  “You have it backward.”

  “Do I?” She meant to say something more, but forgot what it was. Nathaniel now had her in his arms and was trailing hot kisses down her neck. “Nathaniel,” she said in a breathy whisper and eeped.

  “No one will dare look down their noses at you once you’re my countess.”

  “Your countess?” Oh, goodness! He trailed more kisses along her shoulder, nudging her robe aside so that her skin was laid bare.

  “Marry me, Poppy.”

  “Marry you?” She stared at him, stunned.

  He stopped kissing her and returned her steady gaze. As the silence persisted between them, he smiled and caressed her cheek. “You’re doing that thing again.”

  “What thing?”

  “Thinking too hard. Trying to be logical when all you ought to be doing is feeling. Do you want to marry me or not? Do you love me or not? You’re the one who read The Book of Love first. What are you feeling, Poppy?”

  “Um, quite splendid.” She licked her lips. “And warm. Very warm. Hot, actually.” She was only wearing her nightgown and robe, which happened to be off her shoulder at the moment while he nuzzled her. She expected her robe would soon come off. If he didn’t take it off her, she’d fling it off herself, for the heat of his hands as he stroked them up and down her arms was exquisitely delightful.

  His touch burned into her soul.

  He began to remove the pins in her hair. She closed her eyes as he slowly slid his hands through the wild tumble of her unbound hair. “What else do you feel, Poppy?”

 
; He cupped her breast.

  Why was it so hot in here? Every pulse in her body began to throb. “Oh, goodness.”

  Before she knew it, he’d unfastened the ties of her robe.

  “You’re removing my clothes.”

  “I said I would once I was ready to marry you. But are you ready to marry me?”

  She closed her eyes. There was nothing between her breast and his hand but a thin layer of cotton. A seductress would have worn silk. But no, she had on sturdy cotton.

  His mouth closed over the tip of her breast, his tongue licking through the fabric.

  She pressed his head against her chest, certain she would expire if he stopped doing this magical thing to her with his lips and tongue. “Nathaniel. Oh, heavens. Your touch.”

  He eased off her breast and kissed her softly on the lips. “It’s you I want to hold in the moonlight. Marry me.”

  “Marry you?”

  “It’s your body I want beside mine in bed. It’s your smile I want to see across from me at the breakfast table.”

  “Did you say marry you?”

  “Twice now, I believe.” He kissed her again, his lips gentle against hers. “It’s you I trust with my secrets and my cares. It’s you I trust with my heart. So, I’m giving it to you, wholly and completely, and I shall never take it back. It’s yours forever.”

  The breath left her in a rush. “Nathaniel.”

  He smiled wryly. “Is that a yes?”

  She laughed. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I ever set eyes on you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I gave my heart to you long ago. I was afraid to admit it to myself or to you until now.”

  “I’m sorry, Poppy. I didn’t make it easy for you. I was an arrogant–”

  “No, you weren’t about to notice a little girl.”

  “You grew up nicely.” He grinned and kissed her again on the mouth. “Is it a yes, Poppy?”

  She nodded. “It’s always been yes.”

  His gaze turned fiery. “I’m so sorry I took so long to see you.”

  “It happened when it was meant to happen. And what do you see when you look at me now?”

  He grinned. “Fertile female with healthy breasts.” Then his grin faded. “So much more than that. My confidant. My partner in life. My happiness. My starlight.”