Confessions of an Improper Bride, page 17
His fingers sifted through the strands of her hair again, and his chest rose against her cheek as he took a breath. Now that it was all over, she could feel the ache of his penetration filling her between her legs. “When a man comes… finishes,” he corrected, “he releases his seed into the woman.”
“I know that.” But he hadn’t done that… at least, she didn’t think he had.
“But it wouldn’t be right for me to get you with child,” he murmured, his fingers stilling, wrapped within strands of her hair. “So just before I finished, I pulled out of your body.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “It doesn’t guarantee anything, but it can help to prevent conception.”
She pulled her head off his chest to look up at him. “Oh, Sebastian, I don’t care about that!”
His eyes darkened. “You should.”
“But I don’t!”
“Surely you know what would become of your reputation should I get you with child.”
She blew out a frustrated breath and turned away from him. Her voice was ragged when she spoke. “I don’t care about my damned reputation. I care about you.”
“God, Phoebe. I care about you, too. Don’t you see? You’re all I care about. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me.”
“If I were to get you with child—” He stopped talking and simply shook his head.
She scrambled around to face him again. “Then let’s go away from London. I want to be with you. I don’t care about anything else, either. I just want you. Just you!”
He gazed at her, the planes of his face flickering gold in the candlelight. “You could do better than me. You know that, don’t you?”
“No,” she whispered. “You’re the best man for me, Sebastian. I feel it. Here.” She reached down, took his hand, and pressed it against her heart.
“I feel it, too… but…”
“Believe it,” she said. “Believe in us.”
He looked at her for long moments, his hand pressing against her wildly beating heart.
“Yes,” he finally agreed. “Just you. And me. I’ll take care of you if it kills me. There’s nothing more important.”
He sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, and then opened them again in a long blink. “Phoebe Donovan, will you come away with me?”
Joy surged through her, so powerful that for a long moment, she couldn’t speak. And then she said, in a solemn whisper, “Yes, Sebastian Harper. I’ll come away with you.”
And with that, they began to plan their escape.
Chapter Thirteen
Going somewhere?”
Serena whipped her head around. The gloom of the stable lay thick and heavy, and the man who’d spoken was only a shadowy silhouette in the doorway, but Serena would know that shape, that voice, anywhere. Jonathan. He must have seen the servants preparing for her departure.
In the past two weeks, Jonathan had been ever-present, but not in an invasive kind of way. He was simply there, and she’d given up trying to avoid him. He often rode in the park during Will and Serena’s daily rides and always engaged in pleasant conversation with them on the path. He attended nearly every evening gathering Serena did, and late at night, he filled her fantasies.
Everyone except Serena had grown accustomed to his constant presence. She’d learned not to show her discomfiture when he was near. She’d made certain to never get herself into a situation in which she’d be alone with him. In public, she kept either Phoebe or Will with her at all times. Even if he’d tried, Jonathan wouldn’t have been able to catch her alone.
She wondered if he’d tried. The wicked part of her hoped he had, but every day she was getting better at quelling that wickedness.
Nevertheless, he’d caught her now. Last week, she and Phoebe had accepted an invitation from Jane to visit her house in Bath. They were to depart this morning, but Serena had been ready to go for some time, so she’d come into the stables for a few moments of quiet. Mostly to think, to debate the idea of not going at all, and to ruminate over the problem of Phoebe.
“Yes, I am going somewhere.” Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the enclosed space of the stable. The horse she’d been brushing shifted its feet, and its nostrils flared. She laid a calming hand over its flank. Ever since they’d lost the horses in Antigua, she’d missed having them. Even though she wasn’t a great rider, simply being near the animals calmed her. “Didn’t Lady Montgomery tell you?”
“I haven’t seen her.”
“We’re off to her house in Bath. We’ll be gone two or three weeks, I expect.”
It was meant to be a summer adventure for Jane, Phoebe, and her. A few weeks of fun before they returned to London to celebrate Meg and Will’s marriage.
Now, however, Serena wasn’t sure she should go. Her sister had upset everyone’s plans.
In the dimness, she saw Jonathan’s features tighten. “Is Langley going?”
She gazed at him, keeping her expression perfectly flat. “He had hoped to, but he was called to work at his offices.”
“Ah.”
Was that a trick of light, or was it a flicker of relief passing over his face?
She’d been excited about the trip, thrilled to get out of London for a while to enjoy herself far away from the searching, questioning, consuming blue eyes of the Earl of Stratford. Perhaps if she were away from him, she could think more clearly about her tangled feelings.
That disconcerting gaze probed her now. “Two or three weeks is a long while.”
“It will seem to be rather a short while, I expect.” She kept her voice light. “Jane wanted us to stay longer, but we must return to London to—” She broke off. The reason they had to come back so quickly was to have some time to finish preparations for the wedding, but she didn’t want to talk to Jonathan about her wedding. “To attend to some business,” she finished clumsily.
“I see.”
“I was here”—she gestured around the stable—“thinking about whether I should go to Bath at all.”
She supposed if there was anyone she could speak freely with about this problem, it was Jonathan. Brushing her hands together, she stepped out of the stall and drew closer to him until she could see the finer details of his expression in the stable’s gloom.
“Phoebe has taken ill. Again. She has a headache and says she can scarcely sit up in bed without feeling like she’s going to vomit. She claims that she cannot tolerate a carriage.” Serena crossed her arms over her chest. “Phoebe is prone to severe headaches on occasion. But this time I fear she is lying.”
“Why?”
“I assure you, I have followed your advice. I have tried not to be overbearing or dictatorial. Despite forbidding her to see Mr. Harper, I’ve given her a great deal of freedom here in London. Yet, I have this foreboding feeling… I’m afraid she’s attempting to take advantage of the opportunity to seek out Mr. Harper while I’m away.”
“Ah, I see.” Jonathan leaned against the door frame, his casual stance drawing her attention to the snugness of his coat over his broad shoulders. “Well, then, I suppose it’s good that I found you. I can allay your fears. Harper is no longer in town. He’s been called away to Prescot—he owns a small parcel of land and a house there. I saw him three nights ago settling a debt in anticipation of leaving Town the following morning.”
“Really?” Phoebe hadn’t mentioned that, but perhaps she didn’t know. She hadn’t received any messages from Mr. Harper—and Serena had kept a strict eye open for any sign of communication between the two young people.
“He’s gone. In fact, he told me he’s given up the lease he had on his town house. He doesn’t plan to return to London for some time.”
Relief washed through her. “Do you think he left Town because he realized his suit for Phoebe was destined for failure?”
Jonathan fixed his gaze on the stall beyond her shoulder. A horse whickered, and she heard the sound of stirring straw, but she didn’t turn to look. “He didn’t say so, Serena, but I believe that might be at the core of it.”
A little thrill buzzed through her when she heard her real name. From Jonathan’s lips, it seemed even more wicked than it should.
She wouldn’t have to worry about Phoebe now, but she felt an unexpected sympathy for both Mr. Harper and her sister. Perhaps if Mr. Harper truly loved Phoebe, he’d change his life, make something of himself, and then renew his suit in a few years when he could prove his worthiness.
Serena’s lips twisted. The chances of that were nil. After all she’d learned from her own experiences, how could such romantic, impossible thoughts enter her mind?
“Well, that’s good then.” All the tension brought on by Phoebe’s claim of illness this morning drained away. “I’m so relieved to hear I’ve been worried over nothing. Thank you for telling me.”
Jonathan shrugged. “It’s best for them this way, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Serena said firmly. “It is.”
Poor Phoebe really was ill. Serena had been impatient and brusque with her this morning, not really believing that her headache was as bad as her sister said. Now, guilt washed over her.
She looked up at him. “Would you—would you mind checking on her once or twice while I am gone?”
He smiled. “Of course. I’ll watch over her like a brother.”
Surprisingly, Serena believed him. For the first time since she’d come back to London, she genuinely returned one of his smiles. They stood there, a few feet away from each other, smiling, and it felt natural. It felt honest and real, like a connection she could share with him and no one else. She was smiling at him as herself. Everyone else she smiled at, she did it as Meg.
If only she could slice away this moment and freeze it forever. In this moment, she was herself, and Jonathan was himself, and they knew each other.
He stepped forward, raising his hand. A smooth, gloved knuckle ran down her cheek. She stared at him, trapped by the lure of his eyes.
“Serena.” It was a whisper of sound, spoken with reverence. He shook his head, gazed at her in wonder. “I never thought I’d be able to touch you again.”
“I’m not Serena,” she murmured, but it was a weak denial, and they both knew it.
Slowly, he bent down, closer, until she breathed him in. Her eyelids drifted shut as every inch of her body reached for him, shoving all rational thought into the background, leaving them squirming to be heard but helpless to stop her.
She reached up and pressed her palm against his chest, not to push him away but to encourage him to come closer. Through the layers of fabric, she could feel his heart, a steady, powerful throb against her hand.
She tilted her head up, reaching, seeking, and when his lips touched hers in the softest, lightest caress, her skin came to life and sizzled with awareness.
His lips brushed hers, once, twice, and then pressed gently. His arm, strong and sturdy, wrapped around her waist, keeping her flush against the hardness of his body.
All of Serena’s restraint, all rational thought, melted away into a puddle at her feet. She couldn’t remember why she’d ever resisted Jonathan’s touch, his kiss. She was completely enthralled, completely thrown into the moment, into the feeling of his strong arms, his supple lips. Nothing else mattered.
The sound of footsteps crunching on nearby gravel made them jerk away from each other. Jonathan’s gaze swung to the shadows, and his features relaxed as he saw someone round the stable’s corner. “Yes?”
“Oh, forgive me, sir.” Serena recognized the voice as belonging to one of the maids. “I was looking for Miss Donovan.”
Jonathan stepped to the edge of the door and gestured into the stable. “She’s here.”
The girl’s round, sun-pinked face came into view. “Pardon me, miss,” she said, “but Lady Montgomery has arrived.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right out.”
The maid left, and Serena looked up at Jonathan.
Not breaking his gaze from her face, he murmured, “I’ll miss you, Serena.”
“I’ll see you in a few weeks.” Blinking hard, she walked past him and toward the house and Jane, torn between begging him to stay with her and help her find some solution to the mire of her life, and escaping from him forever.
Ten days later, Jane led Serena toward the marble pump at the Pump Room in Bath. Serena took a glass of the waters from the attendant, but Jane declined.
Serena sipped the hot liquid, swirling it around in her mouth like a fine wine before swallowing.
“Well, what do you think?”
Serena took another sip, considering. “I like it.”
A shudder rippled across Jane’s thin shoulders. “Not me. I think it rather tastes like someone has boiled a rotten egg in it.”
Serena smiled, her gaze wandering through the vast room. She’d always hoped to come to the famous town. “I’m glad we came, despite your dislike of the waters.”
“It is quiet today,” Jane observed. “Though we certainly aren’t here at the fashionable hour.”
“I prefer the quietness of it, I think.”
Both women had dressed warmly, for there had been a chill in the air—Serena wore a dark pink walking dress of corded Italian silk with a black velvet bonnet and pelisse and a high, matching velvet collar. Jane’s dress was darker and sterner—a slate-colored silk. They’d come inside to escape the stiff breeze that had assaulted them as they were shopping.
The pump room was airy and bright, a glorious place. Recessed windows surrounded the fireplaces flanking the pump, and the wall opposite the pump consisted more of glass than plaster. White Corinthian columns separated the windows, which were tall and rectangular, topped with molding and oval windows above. The building provided a sheltered haven from the wind and amassing clouds but almost gave the impression of being outdoors.
“The crowds will arrive soon.” Jane gestured at the platform built into one end of the room where several men were setting up their musical instruments. “They’re preparing for the afternoon concert.”
Side by side, Serena and Jane began a slow promenade, walking along the outer edges of the room, their heels clacking on the wood floor. The murmurs of the sparse crowd added to the serene calm of the place. Serena gazed out the tall windows as they passed. The clouds had gathered into a dense mass of grays, and now a light rain sprinkled over the city of Bath.
She handed her empty glass to a serving girl and wondered if it was raining in London. Whether Jonathan was caught out in it.
Why was she thinking of him? Again?
She brushed her fingers over her lips, which still seemed to tingle from his last kiss. She couldn’t stop herself. She was in the city Jonathan had run to after he’d heard of her “death.” This was the city where he’d cuckolded a man of God.
Every day, she walked the streets and imagined Jonathan having passed over those same stretches of pavement and dirt years before. Had he been thinking about her? About the look on her face when he’d turned his back on her?
She didn’t understand her own feelings. For so many years, the possibility of her forgiving Jonathan for what he’d done had been as remote as the stars. And now…
Jane laid a hand on her arm. “Would you like us to return to London sooner than planned? Do you miss Captain Langley terribly? And I know you’ve been concerned about leaving your sister all alone in London.”
She gave Jane a firm smile. She’d had two letters from her sister, who seemed fully recovered and quite bored without her in London. “Not at all, Jane. My aunt is looking after Phoebe. And Will is very busy. And in any case, we’ve only a few more days here.”
“I’ll do my best to ascertain that the next few days fly by,” Jane promised.
The days had already passed so quickly that Serena found it difficult to believe their time in Bath had almost come to an end. She smiled at her friend. “I’ve no doubt of that.”
Jane drew her to a stop, and the two women gazed at a marble statue that occupied the alcove at the eastern end of the building.
“This is Beau Nash,” Jane said. “Bath would be nothing but another provincial town without Nash. He brought society, fashion, and architecture here. But alas, he was a fool.”
“A fool? Why?”
“His genius was overcome by his disease.”
Serena frowned. She didn’t know as much as she should about British notables, she supposed. “What disease?”
“Gambling. He lost all at the gaming tables.”
“You speak of gambling as if it were a bona fide illness.”
“Well,” Jane said slowly, “I do believe it can be. One need only observe all the men and women in recent history who have succumbed to it. Just like any fatal disease, once a person reaches a certain point, there is no turning back, no recovery.”
Gazing at the sleek lines of the marble statue, Serena frowned. She wondered about Sebastian Harper. Had he gone that far? She was glad he’d come to his senses and left London before it was too late.
And what about Jonathan? He seemed so calm, so logical. She couldn’t imagine him being overcome by such a disease.
They began their promenade again. “Jane,” Serena asked after a moment, “your cousin, Lord Stratford…”
Jane looked up at her. “Yes?”
“Well, I’ve heard rumors…”
“About his gambling?”
“Well, yes. That, among other things.”
“I see,” Jane murmured. “Well, Meg, you mustn’t believe everything you hear, especially when it comes to my cousin. Stratford is no saint by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s no devil, either—at least not as much of one as people might have you believe.”
Serena frowned, and Jane leaned closer. “What, exactly, have you heard about him?”
If there was anyone who’d give her a straight answer, it was Jane. The words rushed out of her. “I heard that after my sister died, he cuckolded a clergyman here in Bath. I’ve heard that he compromised many women after that one… and that he’s fathered a child born out of wedlock.”
Jane nodded, her face tightening almost imperceptibly. “And you wish to know if there’s any truth behind these accusations?”
