Debauchery and the Earl, page 10
Without warning, the affable, slightly vague gentleman that was the usual Blackwell vanished to be replaced by an implacable stranger. “I have let my daughter choose, but she is still under my protection, sir, and she owes you nothing. I have civilly relayed both your proposal and her answer, and now I must ask you not to importune her further. Good afternoon, Mr. Gough.”
Gough felt dismissed, even though it was Blackwell who walked out, leaving the door open.
Damnation. He sank down into the nearest chair, scowling. The girl was pregnant and rejected him? And the father let her? Of course, he could not yet know, poor fool. But still, to deny a suitor any private interview with her…
Of course.
“Calton,” he uttered with loathing. The earl had been busy last night, not only warning Gough to behave around Miss Josephine but also warning the father against him. Though what could he possibly have said? Gough was a landed gentleman with an ancient name, the heir of a viscount, and Blackwell was damned lucky to receive any offers for his whore of a daughter.
Well, he would come back begging Gough to take her off his hands soon enough. For the girl herself was clearly holding out for the Earl of Calton. She didn’t have the sense to know, as Selina and Gough both did, that that bird would never fly.
Chapter Ten
“You look beautiful,” Josephine told her sister as their eyes met in the looking glass. Aunt Darling’s maid, who had been loaned to them for half an hour, fled back to her mistress, leaving them alone.
Helena smiled a little tremulously and smoothed the skirts of her elegant blue silk ballgown with its ruffled train. “Do you think—” She broke off, shaking her head.
“Do I think Talley will find you so?” Josephine guessed, and Helena blushed.
“I have become obvious.”
“It’s an improvement from impenetrable and pointlessly secretive.”
“I felt so confused, so…alone.”
Josephine came closer behind her and threaded her fingers through her sister’s. “You were never alone.”
For a moment, Helena curled her fingers around Josephine’s. “I know. But he didn’t come, and he didn’t speak, and I was ashamed and humiliated.” Her smile grew dazzling. “He is going to speak to Papa tonight.”
“Does he know about the baby?” Josephine asked bluntly.
Helena’s smile faded. “I meant to tell him today, but there were always people around. I will find a moment tonight before he speaks to Papa. But I know everything will work out. For you, too, Jo.”
Josephine dragged her gaze free. “I think my heart is too wayward for that,” she said ruefully.
“Lord Calton is different with you. Is he the reason you turned down Mr. Gough?”
“No, Gough is the reason I turned down Mr. Gough,” Josephine said lightly.
Helena stood back and examined her. “That color seems dull until you wear it. It catches the lights in your hair and eyes and shimmers like autumn leaves in sunlight.”
Josephine laughed. “Now you are being poetic—you must be in love. Come, let us go before Darling Aunt has to come and shoo us downstairs.”
The ballroom had been stunningly decorated in Lady Wenning’s inimitable style, to resemble a night sky. Against a dark blue ceiling and walls, a central chandelier shone like the moon, while smaller clumps of candles winked like stars above and around the walls. Instead of filling the ballroom with hothouse flowers or potted palms, she had arranged silhouette paintings of trees against pillars and one of the walls. The effect was charming and different and curiously enchanting.
“How beautiful!” Josephine said to her hostess as she and Helena followed Papa and Aunt Darling into the ballroom.
Lady Wenning laughed. “I was about to say the same to you.”
Josephine smiled and moved on. For a moment, she was disoriented by the sea of people, and could not see her family or make out anyone else she knew. And everyone seemed to be looking at her. A flush of embarrassment spread up from her toes. She forced herself to move and then, a man stepped in front of her.
“Miss Josephine. May I have the pleasure?”
Calton, handsome as ever and carelessly distinguished in severe black and white evening dress, leavened only by the red and gold splash of his waistcoat. She took his arm from sheer instinct and relief. “Pleasure of what?”
His eyes twinkled. “The first dance. To begin with. You seem a little…discomposed.”
“Everyone was staring at me,” she confided. “You would tell me if my gown was torn, or I have somehow acquired a smut on my nose? Or is some rumor circulating—”
“Josephine. They are staring because you look beautiful, even more so than usual.”
She cast him a dubious glance that made him laugh. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t really like crowds. When we were in Vienna, I learned to tolerate them by sticking close to Helena for the first quarter of an hour until I was used to all the people, and then it was easier.”
“Then it was particularly brave of you to risk the ball at Maida where you knew no one.”
“That was different. I was masked, and I had an important task to carry out. Besides, I hovered around the edges of the dance floor until I saw you. It was helpful, though quite arrogant of you, to disdain the mask.”
“It made my face itch. Is this an acceptance of my hand for the waltz?”
She realized the orchestra was playing the introduction. To open proceedings, Lady Wenning took to the floor with the handsome young Duke of Dearham, as the highest-ranking guest in attendance, Lord Wenning with the duchess.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Goodness, she had almost forgotten how her body reacted to his nearness. The strength of his arm at her waist, the light yet almost caressing clasp of his hand, the grace of his guiding movements… Feeling swamped her, almost equal parts pleasure and pain—pain because she could never have what she truly wanted.
“Has Gough bothered you any further?” he murmured.
“Not as such, though he did make an offer for me to my father.”
Calton’s brow tugged downward. “Did he, by God?”
“You needn’t sound quite so astonished.”
His frown smoothed into laughter lines. “I never attributed such good sense to him. What answer did Mr. Blackwell give him?”
“Mine.”
“Ah. Perhaps that is why he has suddenly decided to depart immediately after the ball.”
“Has he?” she asked with hope, for in truth the man made her uncomfortable, and she hated to feel his gaze on her. Which it often seemed to be.
“According to Wenning.” Calton’s gaze moved beyond her. “Your sister is dancing with Talley.”
“I have cause for hope there.” Hope that would mean Calton’s work was done and he could leave for France as he wanted. She banished the thought and summoned a smile.
“Then why do you look so sad?” he asked softly.
She stiffened. “I don’t. I am not remotely sad.”
He stepped forward, turning her with just a little too much ebullience. “Then smile as only you can, for there is nothing wrong with this moment. Nothing at all.”
He was right, of course. More than that, it felt suddenly perfect, something to hold on to, perhaps, through subsequent years of loneliness, but for now, everything really was…wonderful.
“Save me the supper dance, too,” he murmured.
“Are you trying to make me fashionable?” she teased.
“Trying to provide us with opportunities for escape,” he replied as the music came to a close and he bowed, placing her hand on his arm and strolling with her in search of Aunt Darling while her heart beat and beat with fresh excitement.
The next couple of hours fled by. The whole evening seemed somehow brightened by a new sense of hope and fun. And yet every dance, every conversation, however interesting or amusing, was in some way just a means of reaching the supper dance.
She barely thought of Gough, except when she noticed him dancing or wandering into the card room. To her relief, despite his one-time request for a dance, he seemed to have taken her father’s instructions to heart and did not come near her. Or perhaps he had just forgotten and moved on.
Would Lord Calton forget, too?
When the time came for the supper waltz, she was with her sister, and Talley appeared to claim Helena, who seemed tired but happy.
“We’ll save you seats at our table,” Helena promised her as she glided off on Talley’s arm, leaving Josephine alone to insist to an unexpected crowd of young men that she was already promised for this dance. As her crowd thinned, she just hoped Calton would remember or she would look and feel very foolish trailing after Aunt Darling and the dowagers instead.
But then, he was there, bowing over her hand, and as he led her onto the dance floor, she felt as if she were floating. Was this really all it took to be happy? Her hand in his, his attention focused on her?
She shivered with awareness as his arm touched her waist and his eyes grew…hungry.
“You are not saying anything,” she observed, her voice curiously breathless.
“Neither are you. Perhaps we are both thinking of the escape I mentioned.”
“What exactly did you mean?”
“Going somewhere alone, to talk.” His eyes glinted as he waltzed her backward. “And I very much want to kiss you.”
Heat flooded her body, not just at his words but at the raw huskiness in his voice. “Then perhaps escaping is not such a good idea.”
His lips quirked. “We could begin with the talking and see how you feel.”
“Are you…are you trying to seduce me?” she asked warily.
A blaze of laughter flashed across his face and was gone. “That, too, is optional. I suspect it depends on the talk.”
“What are we to talk about?”
“You. Happiness. Will you come? Just for as long as you wish to.”
“People will notice.”
“Not if we look as if we are going early to the supper room. There is a door into the garden from there.”
“You have done this before, haven’t you?” She didn’t know if she was amused or desolate. “Enticed women from ballrooms.”
“Not to talk,” he said ruefully. “I have a past you needn’t listen too hard to hear about. But we have trusted each other this far, have we not?”
“Yes,” she admitted, losing herself once more in his eyes, in his scent, and the sheer pleasure of his nearness. “Yes, we have.”
He did not rush her. He gave her time to think. Only with every passing second, she slipped further under his spell, or perhaps under her own simple curiosity. After a few minutes, they twirled around the edge of the dance floor.
“Shall we?” he murmured, and she stopped dancing before she realized she had already decided.
He drew her aside, placed her hand on his arm once more, and they walked down the steps to the supper room. A few of the dowagers were there already. Josephine could hear their voices, but before she could see them, Calton tugged her to the left and down a narrow passage that led to the kitchen, judging by the crashing of pots and pans and shouted instructions in the distance. Well, before they got there, before they had seen more than a footman with a loaded tray, Calton pushed open a door and whisked her outside.
After the heat in the ballroom, and her own thundering excitement, the cool autumn air was welcome. She breathed it in somewhat shakily. This part of the garden was not lit. Only the terrace around the ballroom and the paths to one particularly pretty area of the formal garden were illuminated by lanterns and torches.
“The maze?” he murmured.
“If you like.”
His teeth flashed white, and then they were running silently, hand-in-hand across the grass, away from the ballroom and into the deeper darkness of the maze. Only, it wasn’t really so dark, for the moon was bright.
They slowed to a walk, and she gazed up at the twinkling sky. “Look, it’s imitating the ballroom.”
He laughed softly, keeping hold of her hand. “Grace will be thrilled to hear you say so.”
She glanced at him. “How come you know this place so well?”
“I came here often as a boy. We had a lot in common, Wenning and I, both inheriting earldoms at unfeasibly young ages. He was precocious and quickly channeled all his energies into serious pursuit of diplomacy. I channeled mine into pleasure.”
“Just pleasure?”
His smile was twisted. “There is no just about pleasure. For what it’s worth, I found it in more than women, wine, and gaming. I liked my estates to be well run and my people prosperous. I liked to learn as I traveled.”
“You speak in the past tense,” she pointed out.
“Perhaps because recently, I have found myself…discontented with my pleasures.”
“In what way?”
“In a bored, weary, what-the-devil-am-I-doing-wasting-my-life kind of way.”
“And that is why you are going abroad,” she guessed, rubbing distractedly at a pain in her heart.
His eyes followed the movement of her hand. “It is why I was considering it until I encountered a bold, masked seductress who taught me many things.”
Her breath caught. “Such as what?”
He brought them to a halt and raised their joined hands to his lips. He kissed her knuckles. “Such as the knowledge that I cannot run from loneliness. That the old lore of happiness from love is not necessarily lies. That making you happy could make me happy.”
Her heart thudded. “M-m-me?”
“Only you,” he whispered. His free hand came up and cupped her cheek. “Will you marry me, Josephine Blackwell?”
Her mouth opened to speak but no words came out. His lips brushed against it. “Will you? Please.”
Tiny kisses peppered the corner of her mouth, arousing, seductive.
She swallowed. “But you do not wish to be married. You told me yourself. Even Aunt Darling says so, because of your brother.”
He paused for the space of a heartbeat. Or several, considering the pace of her own. “Francis,” he said. “She told you about Francis?”
“She said he was…different. That he died young from that differentness, as had one of your uncles, and that was why…”
“He was a child who never grew up. The sweetest-natured, most loving child you will ever meet. At the age of twelve, he still spoke and played like a four-year-old. But he was my brother and I loved him. And they let him die without me. They left me at school so as not to upset me. He would have missed me, he would have been frightened without me.” He seemed to break off the torrent of words with a mighty effort. “Perhaps. I will never know.”
She put her arms around him, instinctively comforting, and after a second, he held her close against him.
“The general belief of the doctors was that his condition ran in the family,” he said, his words muffled in her hair.
“So, you would not risk fathering a child like your brother.”
He drew back a little to meet her gaze. “I would not risk the pain of losing a child like my brother. But I was wrong. That was something else you taught me, without words. My selfishness. I had forgotten the lives enriched by him, mine most of all. But life is risk and pain. Without it, there is no happiness. Only the boredom and self-weariness that was tearing me apart. Before you and your wild schemes and your care for your sister.”
She closed her eyes in despair, pressing her cheek to his. “You cannot base a marriage on such foundations. I am not a crutch. But if I have helped to open your eyes, go and live your life.”
Something shuddered through him. Laughter? “Oh, my sweet, those are not the foundations I had in mind, merely another reason to love you. I want you in my life and in my bed.”
His rough cheek moved against hers. His mouth hovered over her lips. His fingers found the tears she tried so hard to hide.
“You know better than anyone,” she whispered, “you can have those things without marriage.”
“You cannot.”
“No,” she said sadly. “And I cannot live with infidelity.”
His lips brushed hers, his breath warm with a hint of wine. “I would keep my vows. With you, I would have no reason to break them.”
She tried to laugh. “Oh, my dear, you would…”
“I would not. I want to be your husband, the father of your children. Tell me you want to be my wife.” His mouth closed on hers with such aching tenderness that the tears came faster. “Have we not agreed that risk can be necessary to happiness?” Another kiss, deeper, more sensual than the last. Her fingers trembled as they clung to his face, his nape. “Take this chance, Josephine. For both of us. Marry me.”
She caught his face between her hands when he would have taken her mouth once more. “One night and you would forget me.”
His eyes glowed, with need, hot and urgent. He hauled her against his hips to leave her in no doubt of his desire and moved against her. “Is that an offer?”
“Yes.” Oh, dear God, did I really say that?
“It might prove the truth to you,” he allowed, just a little breathless. “On the other hand, it’s also how your sister—”
“Don’t,” she pleaded.
“I won’t take you without marriage. I already proved that to myself if not to you.” He did not sound remotely offended. Instead, his hands were stroking her rear, running over her hips, and upward to her breasts. His fingers massaged her nape, so arousing that she could not be still. His breath stirred her hair. His lips brushed against her ear, melting her. “But I could show you a little pleasure, a little taste of what we would miss without marriage.”
Trust. Trust made her lift her face in a mute plea for that taste, for his kisses and caresses. But unexpectedly, he spun her around, her back to his chest, and she gasped as he grazed his teeth along her nape, kissing and gently nipping. One arm across her body held her to him, while he cupped her breast. His other hand stroked over her stomach, and she felt an insane urge to push upward against it.
