by Shana Galen
“Of course, me lady.” He moved closer and bent to examine the paper. The scent of her made him almost dizzy. It was so light he had to inhale deeply and then a whiff of it was never enough. He wanted more, wanted to bury himself in that scent and breathe it into his being.
James looked at the paper on which there were some lines and confirmation of an order of a Catarina lace fichu.
“Do you see here?” She pointed to a spot on the paper where no words were written. James obediently leaned closer.
“Meet me in the garden at eleven,” Phil whispered.
“I’m not sure, me lady,” he said, pretending to refer to the paper. He glanced at her, a warning in his eyes.
“I am,” she said. “Please?”
How could he refuse her, especially when a few stolen moments were exactly what he wanted as well? But it would mean he could not risk telling Sean and Patrick about her outing. He couldn’t take the chance that they would appear when he was in the garden with her.
“I’ll be there,” he said quietly.
“In the gazebo,” she murmured, then louder, “Oh, I see now. Yes, that is helpful, James.”
He shook his head, willing himself not to smile at her. If she hadn’t been the daughter of a duke, she might have had a knack for the stage. “If that is all, me lady.”
“That’s all for now,” she said, lifting her book again. “Thank you, James.”
He bowed and when he closed the drawing room doors behind him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t made the biggest mistake of his life.
Six
Phil dressed far more carefully than she would have if she’d just been attending a card party. She enjoyed card parties as she liked most of the games and usually won more than she lost. But the card party was no more than an event that would take place between now and eleven. Then she’d be in James’s arms again. She didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to look even more handsome here than in the country. She’d heard several of the maids discussing how they wouldn’t mind if he tried to steal a kiss, but from what she’d overheard, he hadn’t looked at them twice.
Did that mean he really did care for her? Was she willing to risk telling him how she felt? She thought she might be ready to risk it. By eleven she could slip away from the games. The play would be quite competitive by then, and she could claim she had a headache and needed some air. No one would want to leave the games to escort her. If she was careful with her timing, she would ensure that no one but she could leave without interrupting a game.
She wore one of her ubiquitous white evening gowns but asked Dawson to do something special with her hair and jewelry. Dawson always shone in moments like this and pinned a red rose in her hair, pairing it with rubies at her neck and ears. A touch of rouge made her cheeks look less pale and a bit of kohl darkened her lashes and made her eyes more prominent. She turned to Dawson. “Do I look terribly wanton?”
“I might wonder if you had used cosmetics, my lady, but I’d never be able to prove it.”
Phil studied her face in the mirror again. “You do have a way with them, Dawson. What about my lips?”
“Best not risk it, my lady. You can bite them in the carriage.”
“Very well then, I’m ready.”
James didn’t hand her into the carriage, but she caught his eye when she stepped inside. He looked tall and noble in his livery. If someone put him in a coat of superfine and a silk waistcoat, he’d look as pedigreed as any earl or viscount.
Her mother prattled on in the carriage, mainly advice to Phil for what to say and how to react if someone mentioned Phineas’s marriage. “You can say you haven’t even met her, dear. Not yet, at any rate.”
“Don’t you think that will cause more speculation rather than less, Mama? Why don’t we just say Phin made a love match and we’re deliriously happy for him?”
Her mother frowned at her. “Have you been drinking, Philomena?”
“No, Mama.”
“Then I think you had better allow me to speak tonight. You don’t seem to have all your wits about you.”
Phil sighed. “I just don’t understand why the ton should care so much about who Phin married. Yes, she has something of a reputation, but whatever she did happened long before I was out. Who can even remember at this point?”
“People always remember a scandal, Philomena. Mark my words.”
But Phil didn’t want to mark those words. “It’s not as though she is a commoner. She’s a countess.”
“Who is practically my age.”
“Oh, she’s not that old, Mama.”
“Well, really!”
“My point is that why can’t we just be happy for them if they are happy? Why can’t people just marry who they love?”
“Oh, and I suppose we’ll just guillotine our king and throw perfectly good tea in the harbor too while we’re at it. Please endeavor to sound less like a savage, Philomena. You know very well why we cannot just marry where we like. You are the daughter of a duke and the sister of one as well. These egalitarian tendencies are most unbecoming in you. Do strive to snuff them out, for my sake.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Now, I have it on good authority that the widowed son of the Earl of Haddington will be in attendance tonight. We must make certain you two are seated at the same table.” She went on, but Philomena wasn’t listening.
It was hopeless. Why hadn’t she seen that earlier? Even her brother had not been so foolish as to marry outside his class. Her mother would never accept James. She supposed they could elope, but then was she not making too many assumptions? James hadn’t told her he loved her. He hadn’t asked her to marry him. Perhaps that wasn’t what he had in mind at all.
They arrived at the card party and were greeted by Lord and Lady Thorpe. Lady Thorpe immediately steered Phil toward a table with a Miss Vincent, who flirted with the two gentleman at the table shamelessly. For her part, the dowager duchess made her way to the Duchess of Ridlington’s table. With the exception of Miss Vincent’s fluttering of eyelashes, the evening went well. Since Phil was the only person actually paying attention to the game, she won a handsome sum.
At quarter to eleven, she began to plan her escape. Lady Lindsey was not playing, and Phil addressed her. “Lady Lindsey, I find my head has begun to pound. Would you please take my place so I might take a turn about the room?”
Mr. Harold Beaumont stood. “I would be happy to accompany you, my lady.”
Phil waved his offer away. “No thank you, Mr. Beaumont. I would not want us both to leave and spoil the game. Lady Lindsey?”
“Of course, I shall play, my dear. I do hope your head feels better soon.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Phil felt poorly for Mr. Beaumont. The widower obviously wanted to escape Miss Vincent, but Phil couldn’t save him tonight.
She circled the room several times to give the players time to become engrossed in play once again, and then she paused at her mother’s table. She curtsied to the Duke and Duchess of Ridlington and Lady Thorpe. “Your Graces. My Lady.” Then she bent low to speak to her mother. “Mama, my head is pounding. Miss Vincent has doused herself with a most unpleasant fragrance. Do you mind if I step into the garden to take in the air?”
“Of course not.” She patted Phil’s arm. “If that does not help, I am certain Lady Thorpe can provide a couch for you to rest upon.” Obviously, her mother was having an enjoyable evening and did not wish to be rushed home. Phil left the room and followed a footman’s directions to the door to the garden. It was a large garden and had been lit by several lanterns. Phil had no trouble finding her way to the gazebo. It too had been lit by lanterns. It also looked quite empty. Her steps faltered. What if James did not come?
But as she grew closer, she saw a shape leaning against one of the columns. “James?” she whispered.
The shape moved toward her.
“James?”
“I’m here.” He reached out a hand and s
he took it, crashing into him, and burying her face in his shoulder.
“I thought you might not come.”
He looked down at her. “I shouldn’t have come, but I can’t seem to resist ye.” He rubbed her arms, bare beneath her shawl. “But ye’re cold. Ye can’t stay out here, lass.”
“I’m warm enough now that I’m with you. We should move away from the lanterns.”
“Sure and I can fix that.” He led her up the steps to the gazebo then blew out the candles in each lantern, casting them into shadow. “Dark enough for you?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Yer perfect.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. She should have melted into the kiss. It was the kind of kiss that usually took her breath away and made her knees buckle. But she couldn’t forget the thoughts that had plagued her in the carriage. James pulled back. “What’s wrong? Should I not have kissed ye?”
“It’s not that.”
“What is it then?”
“There’s something I want to say, something I need to tell you, but I don’t know how to begin.” She took a breath. Now was the moment of truth. She would know how he really felt, and if it was the same way she felt about him. “I know you told me to marry Knoxwood or one of the other men in my class, but I don’t want to marry one of them. I want—”
He put his finger to her lips. His skin was bare and cold and she could feel the callous rough against her flesh. “Don’t say it, lass. We cannot be together. Perhaps it’s best if we end it now.”
She didn’t move, and neither did he. His finger fell away. “But you don’t really want to end it, do you?” she asked.
“I said ye were hard to resist.”
It was dark, and she could not see his face very well. “Do you feel anything for me? If things were different, would you want to marry me?”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “How can ye even ask such a thing? I’ve loved ye since the moment I saw ye. I’ve never known a woman like ye—so witty and brave and smart. Yer not afraid of anything. If I could, I’d marry ye in a minute.”
“Then let’s run away.”
“Shh. I wouldn’t do that to ye, no. A life of poverty is hard for those born into it and that much harder for those thrust into it. I do love ye, lass, and that’s why I want better for ye.”
“But if we love each other—”
“It’s not enough.” He pulled her down onto the bench, wrapping his arms about her to keep her warm. “Me own ma and da loved each other. They had a small plot of land in Ireland, but my da wasn’t much of a farmer and several years of bad winters did him in. The whole family was kicked off the land. My da had no choice but to look for work in Dublin.”
Phil took his hand and squeezed it.
“My da found work but it paid a pittance. We were forced to live in a room with two other families. There were more than twenty of us sharing a space not much larger than this gazebo.”
“Oh, James.”
“Christ Jaysus, Phil, I don’t want ye to pity me. I just want ye to understand that love can’t save you. My da loved my ma, but it didn’t save him when he fell on the job and broke his back. He never walked again and died slowly in a corner of that filthy room. I have six sisters, no brothers, and I was the man of the house at fifteen. I looked for work, but it’s not easy when yer a boy with no skills. Then my sister Colleen—she was just a baby when we moved to Dublin—she was the first to become ill. We took her to the charity hospital, but—” His voice broke.
Phil pulled him close. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“I need ye to understand, lass, why I can’t marry ye. I can’t do that to ye. I can’t do that to our children. I never expected to feel the way I do or that ye would feel the same. It seems a poor excuse now, but I didn’t want this to happen.”
“Nor I. But it did happen, James. And I want one thing from you before we say good-bye.” Though she knew it wouldn’t really be good-bye. He’d still be in her family’s employ, although perhaps it was best for both of them if he moved on. She could ensure he had a perfect recommendation.
“No, lass. I may not be a gentleman, but I’m not a scoundrel, either. I won’t take yer virginity.”
She sat back. “How did you know that’s what I wanted to ask?”
“Because I know ye.”
“Then you understand why I ask. You’ve lived at Southmeade long enough to know what my future will look like. I’ll be married to a man I don’t love. He’ll want me for my dowry or to take charge of the children from his first wife or to stop Society gossiping about his unnatural proclivities. And, James, I don’t mind giving a man my dowry, I love children, and if my future husband prefers to lie with others, I accept that too. But before I give myself to a life where there’s no chance of love, don’t I deserve one night where I know what love feels like?”
“Phil, don’t ask this of me.”
“I’m not making a request. I’m telling you how I feel.” She reached into her skirts for the hidden pocket and felt the warm key there. Pulling it out, she pressed it into his palm. “It’s your choice, James. If you want me, then I’m yours. Come to my room, to my bed. This is an invitation, and you are free to accept or decline.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “But I do hope you’ll accept.” She stood. “I have to go back before my mother sends a servant to look for me. You should get back too.”
He stood and pulled her roughly against him. She inhaled sharply, thinking she had angered him, but when he kissed her, the kiss was full of passion, not anger. When her knees began to buckle, she put her arms around his neck and clung to him for support as much as out of desire. Finally, he ended the kiss, and she couldn’t stop herself from pulling his lips back to hers.
“I wish I could stay here,” she murmured against his lips.
“So do I, lass.”
“Goodnight.” On shaky legs, she walked back to the house and let herself inside. Once inside, she leaned against the door and took a deep breath. She’d given him the key and asked. There wasn’t any more she could do. She could only hope he would come to her, but perhaps he had too much honor for that. She couldn’t fault him if that was the case.
The sound of laughter floated toward her from the direction of the card room. She smoothed her hair and her dress and made her way back.
HE WAS AN IDIOT. CLEARLY, he was allowing his cock to think rather than his brain. Why else would he be walking around Mayne House after two in the morning instead of sleeping in his bed? Why was he risking being seen and ruining not only Lady Philomena but getting himself thrown in prison or worse?
As James pushed open the servants’ door to the family’s floor, he had to admit that Phil was worth any risk. He wanted her, whether it was for a minute, an hour, or a night. And if he were caught and sent to Newgate, then at least he’d be saved from Sean and Patrick. When they found out he had not tipped them off about Lady Philomena’s excursion last night, they would probably kill him and dump his body in the Thames.
He made his way down the corridor, cringing when a floorboard creaked, then paused outside Phil’s door. Now was the moment when he really had to summon his courage. Did he dare use the key?
He thought about her on the other side of the door, her hair spread on a pillow, her soft lips parted in sleep, and his hand moved without permission. He slid the key in the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open.
But when he closed the door behind him and turned to look at the bed, he saw it was empty.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said. She was sitting in a chair by the fire, her hair loose as he’d imagined, her legs tucked under her, and wearing a silky white dressing gown, tied at the waist.
“Sure and I didn’t think I would either.” He took a step toward her and she waved at the door.
“Lock it, please.”
He swallowed and did as she asked. When he turned back, she was standing.
“I thought ye’d be sleeping,” he said. He
r hair was damp. She’d been sitting by the fire to allow it to dry.
“I never can sleep after an outing. My mind is too busy, and it takes me an hour or so to quiet it. Can I confess something to you?”
“I’m no priest, lass. Far from it.” He didn’t dare move too much closer. He intended to wait for her invitation and to give her time and space to reconsider.
“It’s not that sort of confession.” She took a step closer. “Now that you’re here, I find I’m shaking with nerves.”
“Ye can always say no. Give the word, and I’ll go, I will.”
“Oh, I don’t want you to go, James. You’re not nervous at all, are you?”
“That’s not entirely true. I have me own worries.”
She raised her brows. “You have done this before?”
He smiled. “I have once or twice, yes. But I want ye to enjoy it. I want to make it good for ye.”
“You will, James. I know you will.” Her hand went to the knot of her robe, and she loosened it. Before he could even be certain what she was doing, she opened the robe and slid it off her shoulders so it pooled at her feet.
She wore nothing underneath.
James inhaled sharply, his gaze riveted to her body. “I thought ye were nervous.”
“You made me feel brave again.”
“Ye might have warned me.” He’d planned to go slow and take his time, but it was difficult to think of anything but touching her when she stood before him naked. Her body was even better than he’d imagined—she was tall and curved, rounded in all the right places. He pulled his eyes away from the thatch of golden hair between her legs to her face, but his gaze caught on her breasts. They were full and high, the slope of each ending in a taut nipple.
“James,” she murmured.
He made a sound.
“You’re making me nervous again.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. Will you touch me?”
“I’m half afraid to do that, lass.”
“Then I suppose I’ll have to touch you.” She walked to him, taking her time and giving him ample opportunity to admire the sway of her hips. Then her arms were around him and that supple body pressed to his. She tilted her face up to his and he kissed her. He put his hands on her waist, but the feel of her bare flesh shocked him. He raised his hands higher then lower, and she was so soft and warm and naked everywhere he touched.
