Gayle Callen - [Brides of Redemption 02]

by Surrender to the Earl

  She hesitated, feeling a momentary excitement that she quickly dismissed out of habit. “I had some formal training for a few months before my blindness, but that was all.”

  Audrey hadn’t realized Blythe was nearby until her sister said, “Do not listen to her, Robert. She and Mama used to dance together all the time. I would watch them.”

  “Blythe,” Audrey said in warning tones.

  “Oh please, the musicians are warming up a waltz. Robert can guide you through it. Surely they waltzed at parties in India?”

  “They did.” He spoke in measured tones, as if he were trying not to sound victorious.

  Audrey gritted her teeth—and then truly looked into her soul. Was she going to sit in a corner asking for sympathy just because she didn’t want to risk being made a fool? Or was her concern more about being held in Robert’s arms and fighting away all the emotions and passion his very touch inspired?

  She had to conquer that, and delaying it would only make everything worse.

  “Very well, I shall dance,” Audrey promised coolly. “Thank you for the invitation, my lord.”

  “Oh good!” Blythe said, her voice practically gleeful. “And I promised this dance to the vicar’s son. He is quite too kind and good for me, but he looks like he can dance most excellently. Have a wonderful waltz!” Her slippers tapped quickly as she moved away.

  Even as Audrey smiled, she heard Robert chuckle.

  “I quite like the woman your sister is turning out to be,” he said.

  “As do I. Miracles truly happen.”

  “Then I’ll keep hoping.”

  She ignored him, pretending she didn’t understand what he meant. And then he took her gloved hand in his as the opening bars of the music swelled.

  “You’re trembling,” he murmured.

  “It’s not as if I have ever danced in public before.”

  “You will master this as you master everything you attempt. I have never admired anyone more in my life.”

  She knew he was exaggerating, but could not stop her blush. “Robert, this flirtation will get you nowhere.”

  “Speaking the truth is always to be commended. Now come into my arms, Mrs. Blake, and relax.”

  As if she could possibly relax, with his gloved hand holding hers, his big palm in the center of her back, each subtle pressure moving her about. She stumbled over his foot once or twice, but he held her up so effortlessly, she wasn’t certain anyone would have noticed her mistakes.

  “Relax,” he breathed. “Smile.”

  A genuine one came to her, and he gave her hand a squeeze.

  “Feel the music,” he said. “I’ve heard you play, and music is in your very soul.”

  She did relax then, letting him sweep her away into a swirl of dancers. She felt the very movement of the air as the women’s swirling skirts passed her by. She was dancing, actually dancing, in the arms of the most handsome man in the room, surely. She felt like every other woman at that moment, no different, no better or worse. She was dancing, trusting in Robert’s every movement.

  Until the music seemed to fade behind her, and a cool evening breeze raised gooseflesh on her bare arms.

  “Robert, where are we?”

  “It was overly warm in there. I thought you might appreciate a moment to collect yourself after your first successful dance.”

  “But where are we?”

  “The terrace. It’s lit with torches in the corners, but there are suitable shadows where an engaged couple can quietly . . . speak.”

  “Quietly speak?” she echoed dryly. “And what would you like to speak of?”

  “Are you enjoying the evening thus far?”

  She put her hands on the stone balustrade and tried to imagine the dark night, and perhaps the moon peering down on them. It could be a peaceful scene—but she did not feel peaceful with Robert’s sleeve brushing her.

  “The evening is lovely, and my new neighbors are gracious and understanding. But you? You are not taking rejection well.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “And I don’t plan to.”

  Now his hand touched hers, side by side on the balustrade. She moved hers away, and when he followed, she gave up with a sigh and allowed it.

  “You are being childish,” she said.

  “I am courting you. If you let me kiss you, we’ll return to the dancing for the next waltz.”

  “Then kiss me and be done with it, for your skill will not persuade me.”

  “Skill? I am flattered.”

  He drew her into his arms, her breasts to the hard planes of his chest, her skirts entwined with his legs. Her heartbeat quickened, and it was as if she couldn’t get enough air—all in reaction to his simplest touch. Why?

  And then his lips met hers, soft and coaxing one moment, firm and commanding the next, demanding entrance to her mouth and insisting that she meet him in passion. And to her regret, she did, with an enthusiasm that was embarrassing and exhilarating at the same time.

  At last he lifted his head, and she managed to say in a breathless voice, “There, we have scandalized our hostess enough.”

  “Or made her sigh with the romance of it all.”

  He was probably more correct than she was.

  “But what if no one knows what we’re doing out here,” he continued, his arms still holding her firm against him, “and we’re discovered? You would have to marry me then.”

  “I am a widow, Robert, given far more freedom than any maiden to have an affair. I cannot be forced into marriage by this sort of scandal.”

  “Then we may have an affair?”

  She groaned. “Not this again. You must let go of this fantasy of us together.”

  “No.”

  He wasn’t teasing now, she could hear it in his voice. He was determined, and for the first time, she wondered if he could defeat all of her promises to herself.

  No, she wouldn’t let that happen. “Take me inside, please. I’m cold.”

  Chapter 19

  Robert escorted them home, then headed back to Hedgerley to take a room at the inn for the night. Audrey knew he wanted her to ask him to spend the night, and that he would have tried to persuade her, had Blythe not been in the carriage with them. Thank goodness for her sister, because Audrey remembered how easily she’d let Robert seduce her on her very own dining table, where her servants might have found them. She winced at the memory, and had to force away the images of the pleasure she hadn’t known she was capable of.

  To her surprise, Blythe followed her into her bedroom.

  “Molly,” Blythe said, “I’ll help Audrey undress for the night. And then she can help me.”

  Audrey frowned at Molly. “You should be sleeping, not waiting up for us. You’re still recovering.”

  “So I dozed upon your bed,” Molly said. “I knew you wouldn’t mind. Thank you, Miss Blythe, I will accept your kind offer, and I’ll tell Charlotte you don’t need her. But before I go, did you both enjoy your dinner?”

  “You should have seen her waltz with Lord Knightsbridge!” Blythe gushed, before Audrey had the chance to speak. “They made the most romantic couple there.”

  Audrey was surprised to feel her cheeks heat, knowing Molly still thought they were truly engaged. “Blythe—”

  Molly gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, it must have been wonderful.”

  “He even led her out on the terrace,” Blythe confided.

  “Ooh!”

  “You never did tell me what he . . . said out there.” Blythe’s voice hinted at laughter and happiness.

  Audrey hesitated. Both her sister and Molly wanted to believe that even the most impractical of dreams could come true. And that wasn’t going to happen. “Enough, ladies. We are all very tired. Good night, Molly. And next time, tell me when you’re going to alter the bodice of my gowns.”

  Molly didn’t sound apologetic as she said, “You looked stunning, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, she did,” Blythe chimed in.

  “And Lord K
nightsbridge couldn’t take his eyes from you.”

  “No, he couldn’t,” Blythe agreed. “And neither could several of the other men.”

  Would this blushing never cease? “Good night, Molly.”

  Molly departed and Blythe began to unhook the back of Audrey’s gown.

  “Men were not looking at me, Blythe, at least not in the way you meant,” Audrey insisted. “Why did you mislead Molly?”

  “Of course they were looking at you. And why should they not? You are beautiful, Audrey. People will stare at first because of your blindness, and yes, that happened tonight. When I was young—”

  “And you are so very old now,” Audrey teased.

  “Shh, let me finish! I am trying to apologize or to explain or . . . I don’t know.”

  Audrey heard the sorrow, and turned about, even though her gown was only just starting to part at the top. “Blythe, this isn’t necessary. I know you’re sorry. We all make stupid mistakes in our youth. And I made several of them, so I certainly understand.”

  “Just let me say this,” Blythe whispered, then cleared her throat. “I don’t know why I used to behave this way—it seems so ridiculous and childish now—but I used to be so sad and defensive when people stared at you.”

  “You were a child,” Audrey said with kindness. “I don’t hold that against you.”

  “Even Father told me to ignore everyone. And then . . . and then he made certain we’d never have to see how people looked at you. We denied you any friendships, Audrey, a social life.”

  “Oh, Blythe, don’t cry,” Audrey said, putting her arms around her sister. “That was Father’s influence. I know that. And perhaps he thought he was trying to protect me.”

  “You mean rather than trying to avoid his own feelings of embarrassment?” Blythe said bitterly.

  “I know he felt that way, too.”

  “I wish that things had been different,” Blythe whispered raggedly, “that I’d been more mature. We lost so much time together.”

  Audrey’s eyes stung and her smile wobbled. “But we have all the time in the world now. We’ll be able to visit each other’s homes, and spend lots of time together.”

  “That’s good.”

  They hugged again, then with tired fingers, fumbled through unhooking each other’s gowns.

  “Good night, Audrey,” Blythe said, then added, “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Audrey said, and when she heard the door shut, she felt the drip of happy tears she could no longer suppress.

  When Audrey came downstairs the next morning, Robert was waiting in the drawing room. He rose as he saw her descend the last stair, and called her name.

  Her head angled toward the room and she approached, her expression one of disapproval that he didn’t quite believe. Her cheeks were pink, and he knew his attentions reached her, though she didn’t want them to.

  “So you didn’t go home,” she said impassively.

  “Did you think I would?”

  “No.” She gave a reluctant smile.

  “What are we doing today? Your feast is approaching. Have the invitations gone out? I didn’t receive one.”

  She shook her head, looking amused and exasperated all at the same time. “Molly isn’t finished with them yet. I am still insisting she resume her duties at a slow pace.”

  “But will I be invited?”

  She hesitated a long time, but he wasn’t worried.

  “You’d come anyway, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

  “I would.”

  “Then you’ll receive an invitation.”

  “It would seem awkward to exclude your future husband, the local earl.”

  Before she could respond with her own jibe, Robert heard the wail of a child.

  Audrey turned her head toward the back of the house, looking not at all surprised.

  “What the hell is that?” Robert demanded.

  “There is no need to curse,” she admonished, entering the drawing room and closing the door behind her.

  She stood facing him, hesitation in her every manner, as if she didn’t know how to tell him—or if she’d even planned to. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  “That little boy is Mrs. Sanford’s grandchild, son of her older daughter, Louisa.”

  “A widow, or so I heard.”

  Audrey seemed to grow a little taller, shoulders back like a foot soldier reporting unwelcome news.

  “She is not a widow. I recently discovered that the child is my husband’s bastard.”

  Robert’s sudden fury with Martin Blake was only eclipsed by the thought of the pain this must have given her. Gently, he said, “So this is the secret your servants have been protecting all along.”

  She nodded. “Martin took advantage of a young woman in his employ, and I will not compound his terrible errors by making this girl or her family suffer. At least he provided for the child, which is how I discovered the truth.”

  “And what do you plan to do with this knowledge?”

  She blinked at him. “Nothing. Louisa is welcome in this household.”

  He frowned. “Are you certain that’s wise?”

  As if she didn’t want to hear any words of caution, she opened the door. “I will do what I think best,” she answered. “And now I need to greet Louisa. Please wait here.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. He followed several paces behind her, then leaned against the doorjamb as the domestic scene in the kitchen unfolded. Mrs. Sanford worked at her wooden table, a large cauldron bubbling over the fire. A young woman with the same blond hair as the maid, Evelyn, sat on another stool, holding a squirming little boy on her lap. He had Blake’s black hair, and the same impudent expression that the man had worn heading into each battle, as if he knew something the enemy didn’t. Robert was glad Audrey couldn’t see the resemblance.

  He watched as Mrs. Sanford and her daughter greeted Audrey’s entrance with resignation, but there was fear in their eyes when they looked at him. He said nothing, for once glad of the reputation a title could provide.

  “Louisa, is that you?” Audrey asked.

  Louisa shot a frightened look at her mother, then answered, “Aye, ma’am, ’tis me—and Arthur, of course.”

  Audrey smiled. “Of course. I could hear his exuberance.”

  Robert wondered how Audrey could smile at this reminder of her husband’s disregard of her. He knew it wasn’t the child’s fault, but how saintly could Audrey be?

  Her expression grew sober. “Louisa, I know it is too late, but I would like to apologize for my husband’s abominable behavior toward you.”

  Louisa burst into tears and hid her face against little Arthur’s head. The boy kept trying to turn around as if he didn’t know what was going on. Robert didn’t blame him.

  “It was me own fault, Mrs. Blake,” Louisa said between sobs. “I was so foolish and I felt sorry for him married to an invalid—oh heavens!”

  She looked at Audrey in horror and went off on a fresh wail. Mrs. Sanford left her mixing bowls and after lifting the boy onto one hip, slipped an arm around her daughter’s back. Louisa covered her face with both hands.

  “Louisa, I do not blame you,” Audrey said.

  She had far more generosity than Robert would have had.

  “Mr. Blake was not a man to consider others,” she continued, “and he used you for his own purposes, just as he did me. He obviously exaggerated my blindness.”

  Louisa nodded, dropping her hands to reveal her tear-ravaged, blotchy face.

  “People have always wanted to consider me an invalid, and I have done my best to show otherwise. I won’t forget the debts Mr. Blake owes to Arthur. I will continue to help provide his care, and if you’d like, you are welcome to move back here with your family.”

  Robert would have thought that Louisa would be overjoyed.

  There was a hesitation in her manner as she said, “You—you would not mind, ma’am?”

  “Not at all. I imagine you
’ve been lonely.”

  New tears slid down the girl’s cheeks as she nodded, but she didn’t smile at the prospect of being reunited with her family.

  “Audrey, I’d like to speak with you,” Robert said at last.

  Mrs. Sanford and her daughter flinched at the sound of his voice, and the little boy craned his neck around with curiosity. Only Audrey seemed unsurprised as she nodded and followed him back to the drawing room.

  He shut the door after her entrance. “Audrey, I understand your compassion for this young girl having been taken advantage of—”

  “Taken advantage of by my own husband,” she interrupted.

  “True, but that was not your fault, nor do you owe her anything beyond support from Blake’s estate. But offering a home? That is a terrible idea.”

  “Why? Her only family is here, and she’s living alone somewhere, ostracized. I’ve been told that most villagers know she is not a widow, so her last attempt at respectability is gone. This is Martin’s fault, Robert.”

  “But not yours. And you knew I’d disagree with how you’re handling this—why else keep me in the dark about the child?”

  “Perhaps because you have no say in my decisions,” she said pointedly. “We are not engaged.”

  “Regardless, this decision is bad for you, Audrey. You’ll be living with a constant reminder of your husband’s infidelity.”

  “You act as if I need reminders of what he did?” she asked in disbelief. “He took my money and he left me trapped with my father—I’m not likely to forget that.”

  “And so you think you can never trust a man again,” he said sadly.

  She seemed to hesitate, which gave him hope.

  “You have to accept my decisions, Robert. I won’t marry you.”

  “I can’t accept that,” he said.

  And as he looked at Audrey, unbowed by the terrible pain inflicted upon her, he realized that her pain was his. He didn’t know what that meant, only that he wanted to make the worst of it go away, to see her truly happy. And he was starting to wonder if she was as against marriage to him as she claimed.

  “Audrey!”

  They both heard Blythe’s excited voice from the entrance hall, and then she came rushing in, a squirming bundle of furry black and white puppy in her arms.