She could turn around anytime, and the fact she obviously meant when he was good and dressed was not helpful for his sense of manliness, or what he intended over the next few weeks.
Perhaps, in view of her extreme fearfulness, icy water was just what he needed right now. Simply perusing the sweep of her neck as it met her shoulders and the anticipation he felt for running his tongue over the small beauty spot which peeped out like an enticement when he looked down her décolletage had made him hard with desire. Desire had, indeed, supplanted the gentler, protective feelings that had risen to the fore, earlier.
Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the water. It was not deep, but retrieving the locket required full immersion. Fortunately it was easy to locate and within a few moments he was back on dry land.
It was not appropriate to reveal himself, he’d decided earlier, yet surely she would want to know what a real man looked like. He knew it was vanity that he wished Miss Brightwell to observe the delineations of his chest; he wanted her to admire him as a well-made man with strengths; one who had no need of the padding some of his sex resorted to in order to be admired in their tight-fitting pantaloons.
So he waited a moment, not covering himself before crying out triumphantly, “I’ve got it!” as he stepped onto a flat rock just as she swung round in response to his voice.
With a cry, she clapped her hands to her mouth and swung back to look at the trees again. Sylvester grinned at her rigid back though his tone suggested embarrassment. He’d let the error appear to be Miss Brightwell’s this time.
“A thousand apologies, Miss Brightwell, I hadn’t meant for you to turn around just yet, only to announce that I’d been successful.” He shrugged on his shirt as he spoke, wishing he could see her face.
Her voice sounded strangled. “And when you were only trying to help me. I’m mortified, as you must be, sir. I…I don’t know what to say except…”
“No, I’ve shocked you and I understand the discomfort you must be feeling.” He spoke softly as he finished dressing, moving to say over her shoulder, his lips close to her ear, “I think we must pretend it never happened.”
She turned her face up to his and nodded earnestly.
“Just like the kiss,” he added, his lips just brushing her cheek.
She nodded again, staring at him as if mesmerized. A kernel as large and hard as a walnut seemed lodged in his own throat. Unable to help himself, he moved his face close to hers.
“I behaved in the most shameful manner, Miss Brightwell. I hope you can forgive me. But truly, I was overcome.”
“Overcome?” she repeated, her eyes trained on his lips…which suddenly were grazing hers.
And then she was in his arms and he was cradling her for but the briefest moment before he tore himself away, setting her back on her feet as he stepped back, as if shocked.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, Miss Brightwell. Please forgive me! I must go!”
Without another word, he took that path that led into the woods and soon was far from the intriguing, confusing—and, he hoped, confused and equally intrigued—Miss Brightwell while his own equilibrium was, surprisingly, more than a little ruffled.
Thea remained on the path watching his retreating back. He didn’t hurry away as if he were embarrassed. He didn’t scuttle away in that half-cringing manner Dr Horne had when he left a room. Instead, despite having just been observed naked by a lady, he almost sauntered. The loose swinging of his arms and his easy gait were the hallmarks of a man without a care in the world.
Oh, to have no cares would be a wonderful thing. Mr Grayling was handsome and in search of a wife. Her cousins affirmed this was so. He had a comfortable living and he was personable. And, oh my goodness but he looked utterly irresistible without his clothes on.
She nearly squeaked her shame aloud. Had she really thought that?
She tried to steer her mind to the practicalities. What else did she know of him other than that he had a chest that made her want to run her hands up and down it and rest her head against its hardness, rubbing her cheek against its fine hair?
Once again she gasped at her wicked thoughts. When had such thoughts entered her head? And what young woman of delicacy would think in such a manner? She must get her colour back before she returned.
The moment she re-joined the entertainment, Fanny and Antoinette discreetly disengaged themselves and clustered around Thea. To Thea’s relief, Aunt Minerva appeared not to have even realised she had gone.
“What was it like this time?” Antoinette demanded, pulling her out of earshot so that they were alone and separated from the other guests by the broad trunk of a large elm.
Thea stared at her. Had they set this up?
“Hush, Antoinette!” Fanny dug her sister in the ribs. She smiled sweetly at Thea. “We saw you wander over to the water garden and then we observed Mr Grayling follow a few minutes later. Did he? Did he apologise for his disgraceful behaviour when I shamefully thrust the two of you together?”
“Surely he kissed you properly this time?” Antoinette interrupted before Thea could respond. “You were gone a full ten minutes and both of you know there’s no time to lose.”
“What do you mean, ‘no time to lose’?” Thea asked faintly.
“Well, Aunt Minerva is so unpredictable you never know when she’s going to get it into her head to take offence at something and decide to return to Heskett.”
The churning in Thea’s breast redoubled.
“So you would mind!” Fanny clapped her hands. “Oh Thea, you’re blushing. He’s made progress, then.”
“Made progress?”
Antoinette made a sound of irritation as she put her hands on her hips. “Would you stop repeating everything we say and tell us what happened? Did he kiss you?”
Thea touched her lips, which burned at the memory. The sun was gently filtering through the leaves and she gazed at the lovely pattern it made on the ground at her feet as she said dreamily, “In a manner of speaking.”
“Good Lord, he either did or he didn’t.”
Thea jerked her head up at Antoinette’s sharp tone. “It was very brief and then he was apologising and then he was…gone.”
Fanny patted her shoulder. “He left you wanting more? Good. You’ve engaged his interest and that’s a very good start. Tomorrow, at Lady Clover’s masquerade ball, you must reel him in even more.”
Thea shook her head. “What are you saying? I can’t pretend and do things I don’t feel.”
“Of course not!” Fanny assured her hastily while Antoinette was more robust.
“Goodness Thea, do you want to marry Mr Grayling or do you want to lose out to that insipid Miss Amelia Huntingdon, because when we’re all at Lady Clover’s masquerade he’ll find himself obliged to dance with her, and if she’s sufficiently encouraging then who knows where it’ll end? You’ll be left with the dregs and end up as wife to some impecunious curate or penniless clerk when you’re on the wrong side of thirty and Aunt Minerva has dropped dead and left you without a penny.”
“Now, now, Antoinette, that wasn’t nice,” her sister admonished.
Thea shook her head sadly as reality weighed her down. She turned back to look at the knots of gathered guests mingling about the gardens. “It’s true, though. And Aunt Minerva said under no circumstances will we be attending any masquerades, so I’m afraid that, no, I shan’t be attending Lady Clover’s ball.”
“Oh no, Thea, you can’t miss out!” cried Fanny.
Antoinette shook her head and sighed. “That’s too bad, Thea, but don’t worry; we’ll take care of Miss Huntingdon. I’ll turn her into a frog, for I’m going as a wood sprite with magical powers. But do let me press my point, which is that it’s all very well for you to weigh up the balance and the risks you’re prepared to take when you know you have Aunt Minerva you can ultimately depend upon, but what if that changes tomorrow? Who knows how well or otherwise Aunt Minerva has provided for you, or if she has at all? No
, Thea, you must take matters into your own hands if you are to have any security and your future is to be less bleak than it is.”
Thea noticed Fanny was staring at Antoinette. Her cousin sounded aghast as she burst out, “Good Lord, I had no idea you gave a moment’s thought to the consequences of your actions, Antoinette.”
Antoinette shrugged. “Well, I didn’t when I let my body rule my head and allowed George Bramley into my bed. Or rather, on the floor in a storeroom at Lady Milton’s ball; but my body was on fire to know what it felt like. I admit, I wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time. Mr Bramley had been plying me with champagne all evening.”
Thea thought she was going to faint. She sent a scandalised look across at her aunt who was talking to Lady Umbrage still, then swung back to Antoinette. “Oh, Antoinette. These words are like a foreign language but I know they mean something…wicked,” she murmured before she could help herself.
“Wicked? To admit to what we all feel? Even Aunt Minerva thinks such things when she thinks about Mr Granville.” Antoinette’s eyes danced. “I’m just more honest in describing how overcome by desire I was after Mr Bramley was so single-minded in his attentions. It was very foolish, I admit, but also very lucky and it enabled me to make a wise decision regarding my future—”
Her sister made a rude noise. “Wise decisions have had nothing to do with anything you’ve ever done and nothing to do with the success you’ve achieved. You’re only too lucky that I rejected Lord Quamby who then realised you were,” she put her head closer and whispered accusingly, “carrying his nephew’s child. That’s right. Admit it to Thea so she knows exactly what dangerous game you played and how it ran in your favour.”
Thea’s mouth dropped open as she glanced about her to ensure they were alone. These were her cousins? Her own flesh and blood?
Fanny took a deep breath and sent Thea a knowing look. “The truth is,” she said more calmly now as she plucked a leaf from an overhanging branch, “that Antoinette has always been a feather-brained peagoose and she got herself into trouble with Mr Horrible George Bramley who was out to ruin her because I rejected him the previous summer. Revenge was his game, and Antoinette played right into his hands. My sister, who only outranks me now due to my orchestrating matters to the advantage of both of us, might well have found herself having to put her bastard child in the basket at the Foundling Hospital. The fact that she wasn’t forced to is due simply to Lord Quamby seeing Antoinette’s pregnancy with his hated nephew’s child as a wonderful opportunity to secure the family line and produce an heir without having to actually bed a woman.”
Thea blinked a couple of times. “Can this be true?” She swallowed, her mouth dry as she put out her hand to steady herself against the tree trunk. She stared at Antoinette. “Are you telling me that you and Lord Quamby—?”
“Well, we’re not man and wife in the Biblical sense, if that’s what you mean,” Antoinette interrupted brightly, idly toying with the enormous glittering diamond on her finger. “He’s been very generous, so naturally I’m very fond of him, but our marriage is for convenience only.” She glanced up and fixed Thea with a meaningful look. “Lord Quamby has some unusual preferences, leaving me to enjoy my…dalliances.” She tossed her head on a tinkling laugh. “Oh, Thea! I can’t tell you what fun I’ve had. Men come in all shapes and varieties and some look at me with moon eyes but then are completely selfish in bed, and then others are more shy and it’s a surprise that they know how to set a woman’s senses on fire!”
Even Fanny looked a little shocked at this. She cleared her throat. “I’d like to point out, Thea, that my only experience is with Lord Fenton and I chose well, but I also knew what I was getting myself into, and I will admit that I had to use a little cunning. I was nothing like Antoinette who threw caution to the wind. I needed to ascertain if I really did want to spend the rest of my life in Fenton’s arms and once I was sure the skilful part was making him realise the same, and to ensure he overlooked the fact I was just a penniless debutante full of hopes and aspirations.”
“You see, Thea,” Antoinette went on, not seeming to care that her sister had been so uncomplimentary, “you could wake up and find yourself in quite a hole. Suddenly you don’t have Aunt Minerva’s support and the only person knocking on your door is…” She floundered for inspiration. “Dr Horne. He’s a widower whom I’ve no doubt would love a pretty wife. He’ll offer you the comfort of his home and make sure you have nice clothes to wear. The trouble is, he’ll want a lot in return. He’ll be climbing over you every night, pushing his thing into you whether you’re ready or not. You’ll start having his babies and they’ll be ugly, puling creatures with thin sandy hair and lashes and red screwed-up faces. Every year you’ll have another one because Dr Horne has twenty years of being a widow to make up for and he’ll be so desperate and so proud now of having a young and pretty wife.”
“Don’t!” Thea put her hands to her ears. “How can you say such things to me?”
Fanny gripped Thea’s wrists to force her hands away as she added, almost fiercely, “Because it’s the truth, Thea.” Glancing at Lady Umbrage’s party of guests who were beginning to depart, she said, more softly, “You’re a debutante who knows nothing of the true ways of the world, but you need to know and understand what we’re saying if you’re to seize the opportunities presented to you.”
“Surely, Thea, you liked it just a little bit when Mt Grayling kissed you?” Antoinette’s eyes flashed with challenge and curiosity and Thea again put her hand to her lips. Her body felt weak and needy all of a sudden and that strange, desperate pulling feeling between her legs was happening to her again.
“Oh, you do!” Antoinette cried happily. She put her head closer and said in conspiratorial tones, “Well, just you remember how you feel when Mr Grayling pays you attention, and compare that with how you might feel if Dr Horne would have you do for him those same things, which is exactly what he’d do—and more—if he made you his wife. It’s one thing to reel in a man but you want to make sure he’s the right one when your future happiness depends upon it.”
Chapter 13
THE moment Aunt Minerva stepped into Lord Quamby’s drawing room she turned a beaming countenance towards Thea who was chatting with her cousins and, with ample bosom heaving, demanded, “And who shall you be masquerading as, my dear? I hope you’ve given due consideration to the matter for I shall be mightily put out if you’re not ready when the carriage is due to leave.”
Her three nieces were struck dumb for a moment. Aunt Minerva was positively glowing.
“I…thought we weren’t going to any masquerades, Aunt Minerva?” Thea fingered the locket at her neck while her thoughts wildly traversed the possibilities now opened up to her, and which surrounded the saviour of the article at her neck.
“It is true I said that…” Aunt Minerva twirled a lock of squirrel’s tail about her finger and looked coquettish as she settled her bulk into an armchair by the small fire, which she’d again demanded despite the warm weather. “However, it appears a certain gentleman wishes for my company.”
Thea and her cousins exchanged a look, which Thea immediately hoped had not been observed by her aunt. Fortunately Aunt Minerva was gazing at the intricate plasterwork on the ceiling, which Thea noticed now appeared to be a myriad of entwined cherubic-looking creatures. They reminded her of the wee babe she’d held the previous afternoon and to her utter astonishment her body exploded into longing, not divorced from a desire to be similarly entwined in Mr Grayling’s embrace.
Good Lord, where had that come from?
Swallowing, she whispered, “I haven’t given a thought to my costume, aunt.”
Both Fanny and Antoinette cried out in unison, “Oh, but I have just the thing for you, Thea!”
And within moments the girls were hastening her upstairs, trying to contain themselves before all but bursting their seams upon the large four-poster in Fanny’s bedchamber.
“A gentleman wishes for
my company,” Antoinette mimicked, leaping to her feet and sticking her chin in the air as she paraded about the room with the customary air of self-importance Aunt Minerva adopted.
She swung round to face the girls. “Who do you suppose this gentleman could be? Surely not the gentleman who rejected her a lifetime ago.”
“Mr Granville?” Thea frowned. “In fact, I do believe she’s got it into her head that he’s come to see the error of his ways and is about to throw himself upon her and beg forgiveness.”
“Then if that’s the case, do you suppose she wishes to reject him or to graciously hold him to her bosom?” asked Fanny.
“And crush the air out of him.”
Fanny and Antoinette looked at Thea who’d spoken, and suddenly burst out laughing. “Why, Thea, I didn’t know you had it in you to make a joke like that,” cried Fanny.
“Or to be so irreverent about the woman who has granted you such kindness and generosity; a home and everything else you could possibly want to sustain you,” added Antoinette.
After some more shared hilarity, Thea who was now half lying on the bed while her cousins lounged in two chairs by the window, said with crinkled brow, “I think Aunt Minerva has reached a time in life where she wants to know that someone—perhaps some man—does feel something for her.” She was serious now. “I mean, she’s never been a beauty. She was brought up without brothers and sisters and she must have felt it keenly when, despite her fortune, no man offered for her.”
“Well, she would have you believe otherwise, though I don’t believe it, and that’s because she’s sharp tongued and selfish and it’s immediately apparent she’d want her way in everything,” declared Fanny. “She has only herself to blame.”
Thea shrugged and Antoinette said roundly, “Oh, Cousin Thea, don’t be so tender-hearted or spend a moment thinking about Aunt Minerva when it’s yourself you should be looking at how to protect. Now here, I was going to wear it myself but it’ll be just the thing for you.” She’d jumped up and withdrawn something from her wardrobe. “Isn’t it alluring?”
Rogue's Kiss (Scandalous Miss Brightwell Book 2) Page 12
