“My dear, you need to resume your social life. You have been hiding in your bedchamber far too long,” Papa said.
Elise huffed. “I have not been hiding! I am simply suffering from some sort of an ague, that is all.” She tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the looks passed among her family members. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone? It was obvious her papa had planned for Simon to take his seat at the musicale several days ago.
She still could not believe how she’d fallen apart at being so near to him after weeks of estrangement. If she had not escaped, there was no doubt in her mind that she would have flung herself into his arms and wept out all her agony and fears. She had to stay strong. The last thing she wanted from Simon was pity and a feeling of “duty” toward her.
Papa shook his head. “I am afraid Blackwell will be so disappointed.” He picked up his fork and continued to eat.
Now Elise felt guilty as she pushed the eggs around her plate. Blackwell had been quite gracious when she told him she could not marry him. He had even held that secret from her father, as well. The roof would have come down on her head had he revealed to Papa what she and Simon had done. She sighed. “Very well. I will go.”
Why ever would her sisters look so happy? Everyone was acting strangely, and she needed to get away. With breakfast over, it was time for her morning ride. She still hoped exercise would bring on her courses. But, alas, with the other symptoms that plagued her, there was little chance of that. Of course, she could go for her usual ride on Pearl and throw herself off. Except she could kill herself, and if she was truly breeding, she did not want to harm her baby.
Her baby.
Tears flooded her eyed again. Her and Simon’s baby. “Excuse me.” She rose and left the table, her meal half-eaten, and walked out the garden door. She inhaled deeply of the fresh morning air, feeling a bit better.
Lord Blackwell held his hand out as Elise stepped from his carriage. The poetry reading was being held in Hatchard’s book store, which was a surprise to Elise because she’d been there earlier in the week and there had been no advertisement for a poetry reading.
They entered the room, and to Elise’s further surprise, her friends from her intellectual gatherings were all there. She was happy to see them since they represented normalcy in the crazy world her life had been of late.
They greeted each other, and then she and Blackwell took their seats. He settled her on the aisle seat and took the one next to her. They chatted amiably for about ten minutes, then Miss Henrietta Gordon stepped to the front of the gathering.
“Good evening, everyone. Tonight will be a special treat for our little group. We have only one speaker to read to us, but I think we will all be pleased with his performance.”
Elise heard more people enter the room and turned to see her sisters and Papa join the group. Juliet and Marigold took the seats behind her, and Papa leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
What in God’s creation was going on? Her heart began to pound with suspicion. Was this another of Papa’s schemes to get her and Simon together? She moved to stand when Blackwell put his hand on hers. “Stay.”
Shocked by his actions, she stared at him wide-eyed when Simon walked to the front of the room and turned to face the group. He had a paper in his hand and looked directly at her. She eased herself back into her seat. Her face flamed, and she thought she would surely faint dead away into Lord Blackwell’s lap.
There was conflicting emotions in Simon’s eyes. Determination, uncertainty, and something else she was afraid to consider. He cleared his throat and lifted his paper. “Those of you who know me well,” he looked directly at her, and all the blood left her face, “are aware that not only do I not like poetry, but I would never write any of my own.”
Write poetry? Simon? Oh, good Lord, was he about to embarrass himself and everyone else by reading poetry he wrote? She held her breath.
“So, in view of that, I have resorted to borrowing a poem by George Lyttelton, 1st Baron Lyttelton, who has written words that are in my heart, words I would write if I knew how to do this sort of thing.”
He began to read.
When Elise on the plain appears
Awed by a thousand tender fears
I would approach, but dare not move:
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?
Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd ear
No other voice than hers can hear,
No other wit but hers approve:
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?
Elise sucked in her breath and was sure the sound of her heart thumping would drown out his words.
If she some other youth commend,
Though I was once his fondest friend,
His instant enemy I prove:
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?
When she is absent, I no more
Delight in all that pleased before
The clearest spring, or shadiest grove:
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?
Simon moved from in front of the group, walked toward her, and spoke from memory the last lines with which she was very familiar.
When fond of power, of beauty vain,
Her nets she spread for every swain,
I strove to hate, but vainly strove:
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?
He lowered the paper and looked at her. “Is this love? Because either I am madly in love with you, Lady Elise, or I need to consult with a physician in the morning to discuss my ills.”
When the tightness in her throat kept her from answering, she merely nodded. With a relieved expression on his face, he dropped to one knee and took her hand. “Lady Elise Smith, will you please make me the happiest of men and marry me? I love you and don’t want to go even one more day without knowing you will be mine forever.”
“You substituted my name for Delia in the poem.” Her fingers wiped tears from the corner of her eyes and her voice shook.
“Oh, my love. Only you would find fault in what I had hoped was the best proposal ever offered.” His grin softened his words.
With tears streaming down her face, she said, “Yes, my Lord St. George, I will marry you.”
He stood and swept her into his arms to the rousing cheers of her intellectual friends, who she was surprised to learn, had a romantic bent to them. Once Simon released her, she realized the one person in the room cheering the loudest was Papa.
Chapter Eleven
Simon breathed a sigh of relief as he looked down at his betrothed. If this crazy plan of her sisters hadn’t worked, he was at a complete loss as to what to do next. He’d been determined to marry her for quite some time, but when Lady Juliet hinted that Elise might be with child, he’d been tempted to simply walk up to her house, throw her over his shoulder, and head for Gretna Green. Which, he assumed, would be with her father’s blessing.
But probably not Elise’s, and she was the one with whom he would have to spend the rest of his life. Amicably.
They were soon separated, with her friends and family wishing them well. His father-in-law-to-be slapped him on the back. “Well done, young man. I didn’t think you had it in you. All that poetry drivel.”
“I certainly don’t have it in me to write it myself. And after spending hours poring over one awful poem after another, I was only too happy to use this one. And replace Dalia with Elise.” He chuckled. “She would notice that.”
“Yes, well, she’s all yours now, St. George.” He seemed very happy, and to emphasize it, gave him another hardy slap on the back.
One of the ladies in the group had brought a cake that they all shared. And Lord Pomeroy’s footman, who appeared from nowhere, offer glasses of champagne.
After about an hour of conversation and good cheer, he noticed Elise was looking a bit wan. They needed time to speak in private and the trip home from the bookstore would be a good time to get a few things settled. Hopefully she would agree to a quick wedding since he already h
ad the special license in his pocket. If nothing else, he was optimistic.
He took her hand as she spoke with Lord Westin. “My dear, I think perhaps an early night might be welcomed?”
Her grateful look had all the protective instincts in him rearing up. If she was, indeed, increasing, he would move them to the country as soon as they married. Fresh air, long walks, and healthy food were the best things for an expectant mother. It amazed him at how his heart sang over the possibility of having a child of his own. Something he swore for years he would never have. A wife whom he loved, and a child he would never abandon in any fashion.
“Yes, I believe I would like to leave soon.”
They said their goodbyes, Lord Pomeroy still glowing with happiness, and Lady Juliet and Lady Marigold, as well. Their plan had worked, Pomeroy had one less daughter’s bills to deal with, and Elise’s sisters were now free to pursue husbands.
He helped her into his carriage and directed the driver to Elise’s townhouse. Despite the need to discuss important matters, the ride remained silent with Elise resting her head on Simon’s shoulder.
Simon kissed her on her head. “Perhaps we can discuss our plans in the morning?”
Elise looked up, her eyes wide. “I thought perhaps you could stay for a while, and we could—talk.”
The hesitation in her question had his cock cheering as loud as Pomeroy had. He had to be sure what she meant, however. He placed his lips against her temple. “What do you have in mind, sweetheart?”
She drew circles on his chest. “Well, you refused to consider an affair, and since I have agreed to marry you . . .”
Yes!
He would not be breaking his word to her father since he promised not to seduce her into saying she would marry him. She’d already consented, so . . .
In one swift movement, he had her on his lap, and his lips covered hers. He groaned with satisfaction. Her taste, her scent, all those soft curves, combined to make him ache so hard, he doubted he could walk. He considered tapping on the ceiling and having the driver continue on, but that would be deuced uncomfortable.
Once the vehicle came to a stop, he hopped out and turned to assist her. He quelled the urge to sweep her into his arms and race up the stairs. There was Mason, the staid butler at the front door to consider. With as much control as he could master, Simon walked sedately by her side into the entrance hall. “Good evening, my lord, my lady.” Mason gave them a stiff bow. “Will you require tea?”
“No, thank you, Mason. Lord St. George and I will not require refreshments. We will be in the drawing room for a while.”
They ascended the steps to the first floor, then continued on past the drawing room to the second floor where the bedchambers were. They walked softly so as not to alert Mason that they were not in the drawing room.
Elise giggled.
Simon took a candle from the box at the top of the stairs and lit it with one of the sconces along the wall, and they entered her bedroom. He immediately touched the flame to the candle branch in her room. The little bit of illumination was just enough for him to see Elise somewhat clearly.
She stood in the middle of the room, a shy smile on her face. Slowly, she undid the ribbon on her bonnet and dropped it to the floor. Her gloves went next, followed by her half boots.
When she raised her skirts to remove her silk stockings he moved with swiftness to stop her. “Leave your stockings on.”
Her brows rose, and then she dipped her head in acquiescence. She turned. “Unfasten my gown?”
With shaky, fumbling fingers, he unfastened the gown and allowed it to slip to the floor. Her petticoat, stays, and chemise were next, joining the pile of discarded clothing at her feet. Once she was naked, except for her stockings, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, settling his hands on her more than slightly rounded belly.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, kissing her neck. Leisurely, he moved his hands up to cup her larger than he remembered breasts. Her nipples peaked and begged for his attention. Her pregnancy was obvious to him. Even though they’d only made love once before, his hands had memorized every dip and curve on her body.
Not wanting to have the conversation about that now, he continued to caress and fondle her breasts and stiffened nipples. Her head fell to the side as he nibbled on her ear. “God, have I missed you. You have no idea how many nights I wanted to crawl through that window over there and come to your bed, to take you.”
She turned. “Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want you for one night, darling, I wanted you forever. Had we gone your way with an affair, I would not have been happy, and I believe that eventually you would not have been either.”
She undid his cravat. “I hate to admit it—since I am always right—but in this instance I believe you are correct.” She shook her head and looked into his eyes. “I want you for always, too, my love.”
He groaned and crushed her to him, taking her mouth with such passion and force he almost frightened himself. No longer able to breath, he released her mouth and within seconds he had all his clothing off, joining Elise’s garments in a heap. His hands lifted her so her swollen breasts were even with his mouth. “Wrap your legs around me,” he mumbled against her breast, taking the silky mound into his mouth, his tongue circling her nipple.
Tucking her legs around him, she fisted her hands in his hair as he walked them to the bed where they tumbled onto the counterpane, arms and legs tangling together. Their hands and mouths were everywhere, reaching, teasing, sucking, kissing, and licking, until they were both breathless and more than ready to come together.
Simon looked down at her as he slowly entered her warmth. “I love you, Elise. Forever and always. You complete me, make me whole, and give my life meaning. I promise you I will be the best husband ever.” His eyes closed, and, with a groan, he shoved all the way in. “You will never regret marrying me, I promise.”
Elise smoothed her hand over the hair covering his forehead. “I love you, too. So much so that I felt broken when we were apart. You make me whole, also.” She gave him a soft smile. A smile he wanted to see for the rest of his life. “Now please love me.”
“As you wish, my love. As you wish.” He kissed her gently as he began the dance of lovers until they were both panting and groaning each other’s names.
***
Three weeks later
Despite Simon haranguing her about marrying sooner since he had a special license, Elise held firm on having a proper wedding. Even though everyone in her family knew she was increasing, she refused to bow to what everyone else wanted. If she were going to go against all she believed in for the past few years, and actually take—gasp—a husband, she would do it the right way.
Simon had been ecstatic about being a father, which, she had to admit, did take her by surprise. He’d told her one night as they sat in the drawing room about his mother abandoning him and his father drinking himself to death. She felt such sorrow for the young boy who had been left to raise himself into manhood with no more guidance than a guardian, who immediately placed him into school and forgot about him.
She’d thought it funny, then no longer amusing, when Simon refused to come to her bed after the night they’d become betrothed. Of course, he was correct that it was disrespectful to her father to climb into her window each night, but she could have gone to his home.
That he had forbidden with raised eyebrows and a lecture on the reputation of his child’s mother.
But eventually the day arrived, and Elise stood before her mirror looking at herself as a bride. Her pale blue dress, shot through with silver, made her feel like a fairy princess. All the feelings she’d had as a young girl, when she still believed there would be a Prince Charming in her future washed over her. Yes, she did look like a fairy princess, and her knight in shining armor awaited her downstairs.
“Oh, Elise, you look absolutely lovely!” Juliet sailed into her room with Marigold right behind her. They were
both dressed in pale rose gowns, with matching flowers in their hair. Juliet’s gown was a bit lower in the neckline and had cap sleeves, while Marigold’s was more demure, as fitting a younger lady.
Elise studied Juliet in her mirror, almost as if seeing her for the first time in weeks with the wedding preparations taking up so much of her time. Juliet had lost weight, her cheekbones more prominent, and her face was quite pale. But the telling sign of a disturbance was the sadness in her eyes. Juliet’s eyes always sparkled with life and humor. “Juliet, are you unwell?”
“No, I am fine, why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Elise continued to watch her.
Her sister’s smile faded as quickly as it had come. Something was troubling Juliet, and as swept up as Elise had been with her own happiness, she had overlooked a problem that she was sure Juliet was suffering with. When she’d really looked at her sister last had been at the arranged poetry reading when Juliet had hugged her and expressed happiness at her betrothal.
This was not the same girl.
She moved toward her sister and placed her hand on her forehead. “Are you sure, sweeting? You are not looking well.”
Juliet snapped her head away. “I am fine. I just told you.” Glancing at the look of surprise on her two sisters’ faces, she rearranged her features into something more pleasant. “Truly, I am fine. It is your wedding day, Elise. We must focus on you, and not on nonexistent problems.”
Whatever the nonexistent problem was, Juliet was obviously not willing to share it. Rather than spoil her wedding day, Elise pushed it to the back of her mind and put her arms around her sisters’ waists. “Shall we go downstairs and see about this marriage business?”
For the Love of the Viscount (The Noble Hearts Series Book 1) Page 11
