Never Fall for your Fiancée, page 16
Giles left him to pace the study. A week didn’t bear thinking about. Under the original circumstances, it would be a risky gamble that would be near impossible to pull off. But now he’d kissed Minerva! Thoroughly kissed Minerva and been thoroughly knocked sideways by his own incomprehensible reaction to it, rendering a single day in her company pure torture.
What he didn’t understand, what he had been wondering incessantly since he’d left her last night, in between reliving the experience over and over again in his mind, was what was different about the way Minerva kissed from all the other women whose lips had locked with his over the years. He’d lost himself in it, poured all of himself into it, and then been left blindsided by the impact. Her kisses were potent, addictive, dangerous, and best avoided henceforth. He could barely look at her now without a new, strange, and frightening yearning taking over. A yearning he hoped to God was just carnal.
“Lord Bellingham’s carriage has left, my lord.” Payne hadn’t bothered knocking— or perhaps he had and Hugh was so bewitched by the vixen he’d been rendered deaf as well as stupid. “Therefore, it would be prudent if you apprised me of the alternative plan.”
“There is no alternative plan. And unless you can come up with something brilliant, we shall just have to make it up as we go along, Payne. Until Giles returns.”
“Oh dear . . .”
“ ‘Oh dear’ indeed, Payne. My mother has already made a spirited start on the wedding preparations and she hasn’t been home a full day yet.”
“Those will only keep her occupied for so long.”
“But at least they will keep her occupied for the time being. I have no choice but to allow my mother to plan to her heart’s content.”
“But she is planning with Miss Minerva. Is it fair to load such a burden solely on her shoulders?”
“I suppose not.”
Poor Minerva. All the money in the world wouldn’t compensate her for that onerous task. Hours and hours together, his meddling mother gradually chiseling away at their flimsy story until there was nothing left to hide behind. “Damn and bloody blast, Payne! What the hell am I going to do?”
“Until a new plan emerges, might I suggest you attempt to be the model son and fiancé.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Spend as much time with your mother as possible. Take her riding, visit her friends— whatever it takes to keep the woman busy. Accompany Minerva in all dealings with your mother, or at least as many of them as you can without arousing suspicion. That way you can better manage their interactions as well as mitigate any unwelcome surprises. And, what better way to distract your mother than by allowing her free rein to plan the wedding? At least it allows you to direct the inevitable meddling there, too.”
“That is exactly what Giles said.”
“Then we have our alternative plan. Shall I inform Miss Minerva once she is alone?”
“No, Payne. I will.” Because Lord only knew they needed to talk. Aside from the hastily cobbled together plan, Hugh needed to construct some boundaries between them, which were suddenly very necessary if he was going to survive till the end. “Can you find a way to occupy my mother and her blasted sisters so I can speak to Minerva after breakfast?” The last thing he needed was Diana realizing her prophecy concerning his supposed plans to debauch her sister had come true. And in less than a week. A very stark reminder indeed of what could happen in the coming week if he lost his head again.
“It is an unforeseen development, to be sure— but not insurmountable.” Hugh was pacing the floor of the rarely visited portrait gallery like an expectant father, his errant hands clasped tightly behind his back in case they gave in to the overwhelming urge to touch her. Heaven only knew why he had chosen this place for their clandestine meeting, because now he felt the weight of all his ancestors’ eyes on him as well as Minerva’s. His philandering cruel grandfather and his philandering and duplicitous father both a stark warning of the hereditary weakness that flowed through his veins, and which would break her generous heart if he succumbed. “All we need to do is keep my mother occupied.”
By the looks of her, she was as uncomfortable with their meeting as he was. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her like a prim schoolmistress, when she hadn’t been the slightest bit prim last night. Those hands had wandered as freely and as boldly on his person as his had on hers. Something he had enjoyed at the time but wished he didn’t remember quite so vividly now. “She’s already occupied, Hugh. Thanks to my clumsy comment.” She stared down at her feet, her expression pained. “I am so sorry I brought up the wedding. I was trying to extricate us both from an awkward situation and yet have only made it more awkward in the process.”
“It’s all right. In a funny sort of way, it’s the perfect distraction. So long as she is fervently planning our nuptials, she won’t be watching the pair of us too closely. All we have to do is cheerfully play along.”
“Even though she wants to take me to meet the vicar tomorrow?”
“There is no need to worry about the vicar. Reverend Cranham is a thoroughly decent chap. Besides, I shall be with you. We should become inseparable until Giles returns. It’s the safest option for keeping our stories straight.”
She nodded, still frowning. “It’s not the vicar who bothers me, it’s lying. In church, Hugh. Lying to your mother is bad enough, but I don’t want to lie in church.” She pointed heavenward and shuddered. “I don’t want to be consigned to eternal damnation . . . not even for forty pounds.”
“I thought we agreed it was sixty? Although I don’t fancy eternal damnation either. How about I invite the reverend to tea after church tomorrow, then we can avoid outright lying in the house of God? I know it’s not ideal . . .” None of this was ideal.
“Tea here would be better, I suppose.” When she frowned, a little furrow appeared between her dark eyebrows. Hugh’s lips desperately wanted to kiss it away. “But if I am honest, I am not happy with your mother planning the wedding at all. I’ll feel dreadful allowing her to get all excited about something which is never going to happen. She has been nothing but lovely so far.”
“Perhaps we can dampen her enthusiasm a little. Stall her from going all guns blazing.”
“I fear she will be hard to stop now that I have set her off. I left her discussing the music with Lucretia and Diana. Your mother favors Pleyel, by the way, over the Mozart piece Lucretia feels would be more appropriate.”
“That’s because my mother loathes Mozart. She says it is overdone, trite, and sets her teeth on edge.”
“No wonder the discussion downstairs has become so spirited. Lucretia is apparently in love with Mozart.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“It hardly matters, does it?” She looked at him as if he had gone mad. “My point is, I have stupidly set a snowball rolling down the hill and already it is a speeding boulder.”
“The first thing we need to do is slow my mother down and tell her we do not want a Christmas wedding because . . .” He flailed his hands about, seeking inspiration.
“Because . . . I want my father’s relatives to come down and traveling in winter is always difficult in the Cairngorms?”
“An excellent idea! And hardly fair this close to Christmas . . .”
“And on such short notice . . .”
“They would be distraught to have missed it. As will you, of course. We could propose a February wedding.”
“Valentine’s Day?” She grinned and he grinned back, pleased their thoughts were so aligned.
“Exactly! My mother will adore the romantic symbolism— Valentine’s is nearly three months away, thus preventing her from running too far ahead of herself. With any luck, Giles will be back well before the week is out and no real harm done. After all, even my mother cannot plan an entire wedding in a week and she will insist on doing it properly.”
“But what about the modiste? She said she was going to write to her as a matter of urgency.”
“I think it’s best to let that happen, don’t you? It adds credence to it all.”
“But we’d be wasting the poor woman’s time.”
“Hardly wasting. Madame Devy is a canny businesswoman and will insist on payment for services rendered whether you wear her dress or not. Not to mention the fact my mother will thoroughly enjoy the whole process. That dress will keep her busy. Especially if you become quite particular. Everything else can easily be canceled well in advance of being made. All the accounts will be going through me anyway, so I can see to all that without her noticing. It is the sensation of purchase my mother enjoys, not the payment. So long as she thinks she is spending, she won’t bother to check the receipts.” He smiled in what he hoped was his most reassuring manner. “And I shall be with you— remember? We are in this together.” He liked that part, at least.
“You cannot be with me all of the time, Hugh. However, if she happens to ask one of us something unexpected as she did this morning, we must ensure we are singing from the same hymn sheet. We are going to need to find a way to alert one another to ensure our stories are straight. It will need to be a better system than having Payne practically leap on me the second I left the room to retrieve my shawl from the breakfast room. I have been gone far too long. Lord only knows what the others must be thinking?” She made a face. “I hope they don’t think I am purposefully avoiding them.”
“They will assume you went to the retiring room regardless. Because nobody ever says that is where they are going. Ladies are always going to retrieve a shawl or a book or their lost handkerchief.”
“That is even more embarrassing.”
Hugh couldn’t help but laugh at Minerva’s awkward mortification. “So embarrassing, in fact, everyone will be at pains not to mention it, because nobody ever mentions such things.”
“Apart from you. I do wish you hadn’t mentioned it. Now I shall feel doubly self-conscious when I return.”
“Knowing Lucretia, she’s probably waxing lyrical and everyone will simply be too relieved you have finally returned to give your absence a second thought.”
“Let us hope. But in future, let’s not use any of that as an excuse to hold a covert conversation. I shall spend forever blushing.” A very tempting image. She looked delightful when she blushed. “Perhaps we could have some sort of word we could casually drop into conversation? A code between us which necessitates a meeting. Something which won’t sound odd in any context.”
“How about an endearment? Two hopelessly in love engaged people would use endearments when conversing with one another, wouldn’t they?”
“It will need to be something specific. Something we wouldn’t accidentally say in the normal flow of conversation.”
“ ‘My darling’?”
“No good.” She shook her head dismissively, and he couldn’t help but notice how the weak winter sunlight made the loose tendril of hair hanging near her ear shimmer. “I call Vee ‘darling’ all the time. ‘My love’ would be better. I never say that to anyone.”
For some reason, Hugh rather liked the sound of that.
“ ‘My love’ works well for me, too. I’ve never had cause to say that either.” Nor had anyone ever said it to him. A suddenly depressing thought, which suggested he had missed it without realizing. His glanced to the walls as he cursed his ancestors for their bad blood. To make it wayward yet saddle him with a conscience was doubly cruel.
“All right . . . ‘my love’ it is.” She was pacing now, and those long legs made her rounded hips undulate with every step. “ ‘My love’ will be our emergency endearment . . . to be uttered only when we urgently need to meet. Then we shall quietly slip away as soon as it is convenient without arousing suspicion. Where shall we meet?” She stopped abruptly to stare at him, and Hugh realized he was still staring longingly at her legs.
“Er . . .” What had possessed him to kiss her? Now he couldn’t get the damned thing out of his mind despite the need to focus on more pressing things. Like the survival of this elaborate charade. “Here is probably the most prudent place. It’s out of the way, rarely visited, and we will have ample warning someone is coming long before they can hear us whispering. Besides, it negates the need to worry about the weather.”
“Very well. Up here it is.”
“And there is also a handy servants’ staircase which allows one to avoid the main thoroughfare. Do you think we should meet here every night, too, once everyone has gone to bed?” Why had he asked that? Meeting her in the dark, when the house was quiet, was surely the path to serious folly. “To catch up on the day and to plan the next, perhaps?”
“I suppose it is a much more prudent place than my bedchamber.” As soon as she said it, she blushed, and bizarrely Hugh did, too. “Although it would be better to meet here first thing . . . rather than when it’s dark . . . because . . . well . . .”
“Because we cannot allow . . . um . . . what happened last night to . . . er . . . happen again?”
“Precisely. It was . . . a mistake.”
“Brought about by exceptional and fraught circumstances. I’ve been meaning to apologize . . .”
She held out her hand to stay him, her lovely cheeks glowing crimson. “No need . . . We must both take an equal share of the blame for what occurred. We had argued, made up and then I thought it was . . . well . . . a harmless goodbye.”
“As did I.” Hugh sighed and, in the absence of knowing what to do with his body, rocked on his heels. He felt intensely stupid doing it while wondering why he was also aggrieved Minerva was so sensible about it all. “The trouble with goodbyes is one doesn’t usually need to consider the implications of them . . . or the subsequent awkwardness they can create when . . . they get out of hand.”
“Well, we certainly did a very good job of making things awkward, didn’t we? But I am glad we have spoken about it. Ignoring it and pretending it hadn’t happened only seemed to make the discomfort worse.” She peeked up at him shyly through her lashes while drawing her frustratingly kissable bottom lip through her teeth. “I think it would be easier if we simply blame the heat of the moment and say no more on the matter, don’t you? I mean, it is not as if that kiss meant anything, did it?”
“Yes . . . I mean no— of course it meant nothing!” The urge to pace was now overwhelming because his toes were curling in his boots, and any moment they were likely to cramp. It had meant something, damn it! This wouldn’t hurt so blasted much if it hadn’t.
By tacit agreement they were now walking toward the door, both keenly eager to escape the other now that the awkward conversation had been well and truly had. Blasted Giles! Blasted goodbyes! Blasted ancestors! Blasted, blasted bloody kiss!
She turned toward the staircase gratefully, before looking back. His heart soared, because he hoped he would see she hadn’t meant any of what she had just said, just as he hadn’t truly meant his plausible denial.
“You have no idea how truly relieved I am, Hugh. . . . It really would have been very silly to let one unfortunate slip sour an otherwise pleasant and cordial relationship.”
His silly heart plummeted to his cringing, almost-cramping toes. Pleasant. Cordial. Words as insipid and uninspiring as the dreaded “nice.” And “heat of the moment”? An apt but depressing summation, as for her the heat had obviously since rapidly cooled while for Hugh it was still raging like a furnace.
“Don’t forget to invite the vicar for tea.”
“I shan’t. It is imperative we avoid eternal damnation. I cannot imagine how awful hell would be if I was stuck in it with you, doubtless forced to be your riding tutor for all eternity as my punishment because the devil has a warped sense of humor.”
She giggled, and the gloriously naughty sound sent all the blood rushing to his groin again. “A fate worse than death indeed. For both of us, I can assure you. Will Marigold be there?”
“Of course not. After yesterday, that poor horse is now Saint Marigold and like all members of the sainthood will be welcomed with open arms at the pearly gates when her time comes.” Hugh wanted to stand there and talk nonsense with her all day. “You should go. Before they send a search party.”
“Or summon the physician.” She smiled, then sighed, making him wonder if she wanted to while away the rest of the day with him, too. “I shall see you in the drawing room soon.”
“Yes. The drawing room. Presently. With my mother.”
“And Mozart.” Alongside Hugh’s unrelenting and unreturned lust.
“Excellent.”
Chapter Fifteen
“It is most unfortunate you injured your shoulder the day we arrived. I was looking forward to riding with you, Minerva. My son has been most effusive about your equestrian talents.”
Olivia— the informality of that name still didn’t feel right on Minerva’s lips— was doing a very good job of separating the pair of them from the gentlemen as they strolled along the meandering garden path in search of the elusive cave. “As in all things, I fear your son has greatly embellished my talents.”
“I don’t doubt it. So far, his version of things leaves a lot to be desired— although I am glad you had the good sense to make the scoundrel wait and court you properly. Everything comes to Hugh too easily.” Something Minerva couldn’t argue with. “Do you know, he neglected to mention you had siblings? Not once did I hear about Diana or Vee, yet I knew the quartet at the local assembly in Chipping Norton played so ill during your first waltz the pair of you struggled to dance through your laughter.” A charming image that made Minerva smile. “And whilst that is a perfectly lovely anecdote which I enjoyed, I should have thought the details of a pair of sisters might have featured in at least one of his extensive paragraphs. Especially as the three of you are obviously so close and Hugh has always been such an enthusiastic and entertaining letter writer with an eye for minute details.”
“Their omission was very careless of him.” What else could she say? Thank goodness he hadn’t described her sisters, else they would all have three complicated stories to learn.
