by Lavinia Kent
“You have changed my mind. You have demonstrated qualities I did not think to find in a young lady.” He turned to her again, reaching out to run a finger down her cheek. This time her shiver was not from cold.
She fought against it, fought the swelling of her breasts, and fought the heat that pooled between her thighs, fought against her own desire. This was not the moment to be ruled by her body. “That I am willing to suck your cock?” Her hands rose to her mouth. She could not possibly have just said that. She might feel rising anger at how uninvolved he seemed, but surely she had not allowed such crudity to pass her lips. But she had.
He laughed. Colton actually laughed. “I would admit that does not hurt.”
“That is not enough of a reason for marriage.” Why could he not say the words she needed? One small hint of caring and she would be his.
“There are far worse reasons. And I do believe that we would muddle along well together.”
She blinked. Muddle along well? Her heart and soul were beginning to ache. “I did not know you could be so romantic, my lord.”
“Marriage is not romantic.”
Why had she ever wished to marry this man? Her near joy of a few moments ago was fading fast. “But it certainly does not need to be callous.”
He pulled in a deep breath. “I would say practical rather than callous.”
He would. “You still have not given me a good reason for marriage.”
“Would you have been so questioning if I had asked you when you first wished me to? I think not.”
And he was probably right. If he had asked those months ago, she would have said yes before the last word had left his mouth, but then she had fooled herself into believing they had something special between them, something that young girls dreamed of. Now she knew better. She pushed away all the longing in her body, all the longing in her heart. “That does not matter. Only this moment matters. None of us can go back in time. It may only be a matter of months, but I am not the same girl that I was then.”
“You look the same to me.”
“Then you do not look very deeply.”
“We are talking in circles. Will you marry me, Angela?”
Chapter 19
Angela slipped into the ballroom, feeling as if her head were empty of everything but air. She felt so light-headed that it was remarkable she did not simply float away. Her hands still shook. Her heart still pounded. Her legs still felt as if they would fail her at any moment.
“There you are. I was beginning to worry,” her mother said, coming up from the side, a glass of champagne in her hand.
Angela looked at it, looked at her mother, looked back at it. She raised her brows in question.
“Oh, I have the most wonderful news. I was speaking with Lord Peter, and he has expressed disappointment that your father is not here. He wishes to speak to your father. You do know what that means!” She took a gulp of the champagne and almost sneezed. Clearly she was not used to the bubbles.
Trying to comprehend this new piece of information, Angela temporized. “What exactly did he say? I cannot imagine that after sitting next to me at dinner and a single dance the man wants to marry me. That does not seem possible. Perhaps he wishes to see Father for some other reason.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” her mother fluttered. “I just know…the tone of his voice, the way his eyes swept the dance floor looking for you. He wants to ask. I know he does. A mother is not wrong about these things.”
She’d certainly been wrong before. Colton came immediately to mind—although she was not so wrong anymore. “I still suspect you may be reading too much into it. He probably has something to talk to Father about that has nothing to do with me.”
Her mother took another sip of the champagne, a rather large one. “Oh, you are looking all gloomy again, and I refuse to have any part of it. I will think what I want to think. Have I not taught you to take pleasure where you find it and to not go looking for trouble? Even if the only pleasurable thing in an entire day is that your morning egg is set perfectly, that is something to be happy about—and you will be far better for taking that happiness than for letting it drift aside. You used to be so good at being happy. Now the sky is blue one minute and there are nothing but gray clouds the next. Did you know that when you were a tiny baby you would wake up smiling every time? You might decide to cry, but only if you had a reason. Your natural state was a happy one.”
How many times had her mother told her this over the years? “I know, Mother. I really do. I just have had a hard time with it these last months. My faith is not as blind as yours.”
“I am not blind. I know that things are not always as I would like, but I would rather be joyful than glum, and it seems to me we have the choice. You were far more like me as a child than you are now. I do sometimes wonder what happened to you this summer. Why did you stop believing that there was a happy ending? Why did you quit throwing yourself forward as hard and as fast as you could, trusting that you would land on your feet? I’ve always wondered if something awful happened to you, but I’ve never been able to understand what. It was before Colton failed to propose, so it could not be that.”
Could this night not be over? Her emotions were volatile, and she had no more explanation for her mother than she ever had. She could not tell her mother about finding out that Colton had been unfaithful and how that had changed her. She could not tell her of the devilish things she had done with him recently and the joy they had brought her. She could not tell her of his coldness yesterday. And she definitely could not tell her of his proposal. That would only bring disaster of one type or another. She tried to lift her cheeks in a half smile. “Nothing awful happened to me, Mother. I think I simply matured, and that was not so awful. I can remember when you were glad that I was not as foolish as Bliss, always going from one madcap adventure to the next.”
Another sip of champagne, but this one seemed more thoughtful. “I suppose that is true, but I mourn the girl who was even wilder than Lady Bliss. Do you remember when the two of you borrowed your father’s best hunter because you wanted to see who could make him clear a higher hedge? You both acted as if you’d fly if you got up high enough.”
“Certain parts of my body remember. I do not believe you were as pleased as you pretend. I can still hear you yelling and telling me how dangerous it was.”
“True, but later I realized that nothing bad had happened. There was not a scratch on either of you. And you acted as if you had been racing at Ascot.”
“I am sure you exaggerate, and I am equally sure that you would yell and scream again given the same circumstance.”
Her mother smiled softly, sadly. “You are probably right, but I do wish you would smile as you used to.”
“This is getting far too morose for a party. I’m going to find a glass of that champagne and then we can sit and watch the couples twirl and gossip about who is showing more than a little ankle and bosom. We have not done that in quite a while.” She did not want to think of how Colton had changed her, both all those months ago and again, in a very different way, this past week. Could she ever go back to the woman she used to be?
She didn’t think so.
The way forward might not be clear, but she knew she could not go back.
Will you marry me? Why did the words haunt her?
When she’d come up with her plan and gone to Madame Rouge’s, it had all seemed so carefully controlled. She’d said she was willing to do anything, but it had actually been a rather small set of anything. Colton could do almost anything with her body, but her spirit, her soul, her feelings, were supposed to stay separate.
And yet they’d all been gathered into a knot and left in a tangle.
Will you marry me?
Her mother squeezed her arm, drawing her attention. “You do not look as if you wish to go and laugh and gossip. Your face is all pinched up like a prune.”
“Sorry, perhaps I am still not recovered from last night’s headache.” Will you marry me? D
id she dare take that risk? The young girl she had been would have jumped without a second thought, trusted that what she felt would be enough for both of them, trusted that Colton was not as cold as he appeared.
But that young girl had grown up and learned that one should be careful.
—
Angela had not answered him. She’d told him she needed time to think. Colton paused at the entrance to the ballroom, letting his lips curl in amusement. He should have been angered or upset, irritated at the very least. Instead he found it…refreshing. He liked that she didn’t simply give in to him, that her spark remained lit.
Although it did present difficulties. Thorton.
What was Colton going to do? Given time, Angela might refuse his offer of marriage. She clearly still bore a grudge from his previous failure to ask for her hand, for his cold dismissal. Was she still so peeved that she would actually refuse? And what more could he do to persuade her?
It was hard to tell, but, then, he’d never understood this game that she was playing. He’d enjoyed—oh, he’d definitely enjoyed—it, but he had not understood what drove her to him. He’d thought maybe she cared for him, that she might even believe she loved him, but if she did, she would have agreed to marriage as soon as the words left his lips.
Perhaps he should have told her of Thorton’s threat. No, he had no desire for her to feel trapped into this marriage. No marriage could start well that began unwillingly.
And he was not unwilling.
That thought filled him.
He might not want to examine his motivation too closely, but he was looking forward to making his angel his own.
Now he just needed to find an appropriate method of persuasion.
Stepping through the door, he scanned the room. The stately traditional dance had brought some older feet—a dozen couples—to the floor. She was not among them.
Searching for the emerald of her dress, he looked again. Where was she? Ah, there, against the far wall, her dress blending with a large array of potted ferns. Her head tilted back and he saw laughter escape her lips. Something had captured her attention and filled her with amusement. He turned to her companion: her mother. That was good. He was not in the mood to deal with any of her young admirers—or her older ones. He looked for Thorton—and found him talking to Lady Perse.
Now, that was not good.
What was the man saying? Colton still had no understanding of what the man was about. Why did he care so deeply about Angela? Could he be some type of relation? Did he have some affection for the girl? It seemed unlikely and he had not mentioned it. Colton would have understood if Thorton had instantly run off and told what he had seen. There were certain people who could not help the gossip that leaked from their lips, who lived only to be the first to share some great secret. Thorton was not that type of man.
So why?
Why was he so determined?
Even as Colton wondered, Thorton turned and saw him. A look of strong dislike darkened his face and then was tamed. That was fine. Colton did not care for him either. Thorton took a step forward, then stopped. He looked straight at Colton and the question was clear.
Colton gave the slightest of shrugs. What other answer was there?
Thorton’s face again darkened. His head jerked toward the veranda door Colton had just entered.
No. Colton shook his head in response.
Thorton’s face grew darker still.
It would not do to have the man angry enough to leak his secrets without thought. Colton considered and nodded toward the hall that led to the billiards room. If it was occupied they would find another space—and he could get a good swallow or two of brandy on the way. Lady Perse was always a most hospitable hostess when it came to keeping the decanters full.
—
“The two of you must marry.”
“I asked.”
“That is not good enough.”
“Do you want me to bundle her up and take her to the vicar?”
“I don’t see why not. Only marriage can fix this situation.”
And why did Thorton care so much? It was a question he was beginning to accept would not be answered. “I will not force her.”
“You seemed quite ready to force her before—or why the ropes?”
Because I like the way they look and she was curious. Somehow he did not think that Thorton would accept that as an answer. “I have never forced a woman and I never would.”
“So if Miss Ripon was truly willing, which I have a hard time believing of any lady, then why does she now refuse you?” Thorton paced across the room.
“I do not know. And she did not refuse me. I am sure that once she has time to think, she will—”
“She had better. I expect to hear your nuptials announced at tomorrow’s luncheon—and I imagine that you can procure a special license with some speed. I do not want to hear of any delays.”
He fought the urge to put his fist through Thorton’s face. “If I do this it will not be because of your threats.”
Thorton looked smug. “I don’t care why you do it, as long as it is done.”
He walked away.
Colton glanced about the empty room. Anger filled him until it was ready to leak from his pores. Yet he kept his calm, his demeanor. It might aggravate him beyond reason to do as Thorton wished, yet it was the right thing. And despite what it might sometimes seem, he was a man who did the right thing.
And marrying Angela was the right thing. He might have questioned it at first, resisted it, but it was the resistance of a young stallion first put to the saddle, the desire to keep freedom and wildness, not a resistance to the rider per se.
“I am going to do it. I am,” he said the words to the empty room.
“Going to do what?”
Colton turned to see Duldon standing in the doorway to the hall. “I am going to marry Miss Angela Ripon.”
Duldon did not look surprised. “Bliss does think the best of her. And Bliss is rarely wrong. Apparently Angela was quite the hellion when she was younger, unafraid of anything. She’s settled in recent months, become more staid, but Bliss did comment once that you should not dare her to do anything, because she will accept—and who knows the consequences.”
She was still that way. He hadn’t realized it, but he could easily see the stubborn look that came upon Angela’s face anytime she felt challenged. “And yet she is not sure if she should take a risk on me.”
“I am surprised you admit it, but it does seem to show good sense on her part.”
“You would say that. Tell me, did Bliss accept your proposal immediately?”
“I would admit there was some persuasion involved, both before and during—and I continue to work to persuade her that I am worth it.”
“And what form of persuasion works?”
Duldon stared at him and did not answer, although his lips twitched.
“Ahh, and combined with a dare? You do give me some ideas on how to handle her. Now, if I could just manage to handle Thorton. I hate that he will think he is responsible for all.”
“Thorton, you say? I don’t know to what you refer, but he has become well known for his meddling at Madame Rouge’s. The rumor is he’s even trying to buy the place.”
That brought Colton to attention. “Ruby would never sell.”
“Apparently she’s tired of running the establishment but is being very selective about a buyer.”
“I’ll buy it. That should show Thorton how little his threats mean to me. I’d like nothing better than to thwart the man.”
Duldon walked forward and, taking the decanter, poured a brandy. “I will not ask what he has done to raise your ire, but I will comment that I am not sure it’s the done thing to propose to a lady and buy a brothel in the same week. It does lead to rather the wrong idea.”
Colton laughed. “And when have we ever been concerned with doing the done thing?”
—
The envelope lay upon her pillow, crisp
and white. A very fine stationery.
Nothing to mark from whom or where it had come. That was odd. Angela picked it up, rubbing the thick paper between her fingers. Normally, stationery this fine would be marked in some way, but no—not even a bit of embossing. A single blob of wax sealed it, but no crest or mark had been pressed into it.
She sniffed. No scent.
And yet she knew. She didn’t know how he’d managed it, but she knew it had to be from Colton. Had he paid a maid or delivered it himself? She was betting on the maid. It was hard to imagine Colton lurking in the corridors.
Was he so impatient? She’d been surprised when he had not pressed her for an immediate answer; perhaps he’d realized that in that moment she would have had no choice but to say no. She’d been unprepared to take the risk.
Marry Colton, knowing he did not love her? When she didn’t understand why his emotions ran hot and cold? Was there a greater risk?
Her mother had reminded her of how she’d been only months before, of the girl who would never back down simply because the odds were against her. Could she be that girl again?
Was that why she loved the game with Colton so much? Being with him let her be that girl but without all the worry. When she was with him she felt safe, trusted that he would keep her from harm. It was perhaps a silly fantasy, but deep inside she did believe it. He might not love her, but he would care for her. All she had to do was trust him.
And hadn’t she already shown she did trust him?
She picked at the wax seal until it broke and fell away.
With only the slightest trepidation, she eased open the envelope. What if he’d changed his mind, was withdrawing his offer? That thought hurt far more than taking the risk and saying yes.
She unfolded the note and read.
There is a small cabin about half a mile past the folly; meet me there at dawn.
Please.
It was not signed.
Not that she needed a signature. She knew exactly from whom it had come, knew that bold script.
But at dawn? Did he expect her to leave the house in the dark and wind her way through the woods? She could probably manage it. The path to the folly was well trod, and she imagined the one leading from it was also. But what gentleman asked a lady to do such a thing?
