Читать книгу Miss Amelia's Mistletoe Marquess - Jenni Fletcher - Страница 13

‘Tea is served,’ Cassius announced, lifting the pot and pouring out two cups of steaming amber liquid.

‘Thank you.’ Miss Amelia Fairclough, as she was apparently called, clasped her hands around the rim with a pleased-sounding sigh.

‘Sugar?’

‘Two lumps, please.’

‘Two lumps.’ He dropped them into her cup and stirred. ‘I’m rather good at playing mistress of the house, don’t you think?’

‘Very proficient.’ Her lips—perfect, bow-shaped, rosy-red lips—spread into a smile. ‘All you need now is an apron.’

He chuckled and sat down on the hearth rug beside her, leaning against the armchair for comfort. It was strange how relaxed he felt in her company now. Positively serene, in fact. Since returning to England, he’d barely spoken about his time in Afghanistan and India to anyone, no more than was necessary anyway. He preferred that nobody knew how much the experience had affected him. Part of the reason he chose to sleep in the gatehouse was so that his staff, never mind Sylvia and her daughters, wouldn’t overhear his nightmares. He didn’t want anyone else to know that he had them at all, only Miss Fairclough had somehow guessed the truth. As to why he’d chosen to tell her the details, he had no idea. It wasn’t simply because she’d been there in a moment of weakness. It was her. She’d made him want to talk, to be listened to as well by someone who’d seemed like she might understand. She’d truly made him feel better. So much so that he wanted to help her, too.

‘Now I have a question for you, Just Millie, if you’ll permit me?’

‘I will.’ She lifted her cup and blew across the surface of the tea to cool it. ‘But I’ve told you my full name. You’re permitted to use it.’

‘But I prefer Just Millie. It suits you and Miss Amelia sounds far too formal. In my mind you’ll always be Just Millie, umbrellaed avenger!’

‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ She laughed. It sounded soft and soothing, like water trickling over stones in a brook. ‘Very well, then, what’s your question?’

‘What do you want?’

She gave him a baffled look. ‘Pardon?’

‘You said that you’ve become someone you didn’t want to be so…’ he opened his hands, palms upwards ‘…what do you want? If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?’

‘Anything at all?’

‘Anything. Be Queen of England if you want.’

‘I believe the position is taken, but if I could do anything…’ She tapped her chin thoughtfully. ‘I’d like to be decadent, just for one day. I’d lie on a chaise longue, eat macaroons, read novels and have a cat.’

‘A cat?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Did I mention that you could do anything?’

‘Yes, but I don’t have any regal ambitions and I’ve always wanted a pet cat. My brother sneezes around them so it was never possible growing up.’

‘So you’re saying that you want a cat more than you want to be Queen?’

She nodded her head firmly. ‘I’d call it Electra or Orestes, depending on whether it was male or female.’

‘I see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.’

‘I have.’ She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘I tried keeping a stray once. She was mewling so pitifully at the back door so I made her a little bed in the coal shed, but I must have carried her hair inside on my clothes. Silas still sneezed.’ She sighed plaintively. ‘Fortunately, I found her a home with an old lady on our street. They were both very happy.’

‘And why the Greek names?’

‘Oh, I’ve always liked Greek mythology. When I was little I had a book filled with stories and legends. I read it so much that eventually the cover fell off.’

‘You don’t think that Electra and Orestes have somewhat bloodthirsty connotations?’

‘They’re still nice names.’

‘I suppose so.’ His lips twitched in bemusement. The conversation was so odd he half-wondered if he was dreaming again. ‘Well then, can’t you have a cat now? Or does your brother still live at home?’

‘No.’ Her expression turned anxious. ‘He went to America to seek his fortune just over a year ago. He sent several letters at first, but now we haven’t had any word in seven months. We’re all worried.’

‘Naturally.’

‘I’m sure there are all kinds of good reasons why we haven’t received any letters, but if I were to get a cat, it would be like admitting he wasn’t coming back at all.’

‘I see.’

‘But maybe I’ll get one if—’ She stopped mid-sentence, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink colour.

‘If…?’

‘If I marry.’ She lifted her teacup and held it at chin level. ‘A friend of the family, our local Curate, asked me to marry him last week.’

‘Indeed?’ He felt a jolt in his chest, a reflexive stab of something like disappointment. ‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic.’

‘Because he’s a friend. I know we could get along perfectly well together. He’s a good man and I respect him, but I don’t know if I could ever care for him in the right way. As a husband, I mean.’

‘Have you told him that?’

‘Oh, yes, and he said he’s had similar thoughts about me as a wife, but overall he considers friendship more important than love.’ She took a sip of tea and then looked up abruptly. ‘Isn’t that odd? If you were married, wouldn’t you want your partner to be more than just a friend?’

Yes. Unquestionably. Undoubtedly. Unequivocally.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them with a mouthful of too-hot tea. ‘I suppose so. Some people might even say it was integral.’

‘He’s never even tried to kiss me.’ She murmured the words as if to herself and then blushed violently again. ‘Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Why not? Kissing is another important aspect of marriage.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Her eyelashes fluttered. ‘That’s what I was afraid of. Only he doesn’t seem to want to and every time I even try to imagine kissing him, my mind just shies away from the idea. Last week I polished all the brass in the house just to avoid thinking about it! I know I oughtn’t to say it, especially to another man, but it just doesn’t feel right.’

‘Then I believe you might have your answer to his proposal.’

‘It’s not as simple as that!’ She sounded indignant. ‘I wish it were.’

‘But surely if you don’t feel the right way…?’

‘How I feel has nothing to do with it. My mother and sister and I are almost down to the last of our savings. Without my brother’s money coming from America, we can’t afford our rent, let alone food, at least not without taking money from the Foundation and Mother would hate to do that. If I don’t marry, then we could be destitute.’

‘You can’t marry just for a place to live.’

‘Says the man who’s allowed to make his own living.’ She gave him a scornful look. ‘Having a place to live is the reason why a lot of women marry. We have to be practical.’

‘Can’t you strive for happiness, too?’

‘Keeping a roof over my family’s heads will make me happy.’

‘Even if it makes you want to go out into the woods and scream?’

She knitted her brows together, taking another sip of tea before answering. ‘Even if it does that, yes.’

‘What about love? Your suitor might not think it important, but what do you think?’

If he wasn’t mistaken, her breath caught at the word love. ‘That would be another sacrifice, but I believe marriages without love are quite common.’

‘Pardon my saying so, but you sound very cynical about it.’

‘I suppose I am. Only I’ve met all kinds of women at the Foundation and I’ve listened to their stories. I know the real world isn’t romantic.’

‘On the whole I’d agree with you, but you seem a little too young to give up.’

‘I’m twenty-five.’ Her eyes shot to his and then softened. ‘Forgive me, you might be right. I know that true love exists because I saw it with my parents, but I can’t let my mother and sister be thrown out of our home just because I want the same thing. It would be selfish of me. Besides, what if I never meet a man I can fall in love with?’

‘What if you do?’

‘And what if we all starve or freeze to death in the meantime?’

‘I still say that marrying this suitor of yours is a sacrifice too far.’ He felt suddenly determined to convince her. If she was so desperate for money, then he would be more than happy to help, though he could hardly make the offer at that moment without it sounding somewhat indecent. Perhaps what she needed was a different kind of convincing.

‘All right, Just Millie, tell me this.’ He leaned closer towards her. ‘Do you think you could ever love this man?’

‘As a friend or a brother, yes. As a wife, no.’

‘Because you can’t imagine kissing him?’

‘In part.’

‘Have you ever been kissed?’

‘Mr Whitlock!’ Her body jerked so abruptly that tea sloshed on to his dressing gown.

‘Don’t worry about that.’ He reached for her cup, putting it aside as she started to wipe herself down. ‘I shouldn’t have put the question so bluntly, but have you considered that it might just be the thought of kissing itself that puts you off? If you’ve never tried it, perhaps you’re simply nervous?’

‘Perhaps.’ She pulled her shoulders back stiffly and folded her hands in her lap, seeming to make a concerted effort to regain her composure, though her expression was still flustered. ‘Yes, I suppose it could be that.’

‘In which case, maybe I can help.’

Green eyes widened like saucers. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just that if you’d like to try then I’d be more than happy to oblige.’

‘You would be…’ He hadn’t thought that her eyes could get any bigger, but apparently he’d been wrong. Fortunately, the expression in them was more bewildered than offended. ‘Are you offering to kiss me, Mr Whitlock?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because…’ He started and then stopped, considering for a moment. In all honesty, he was somewhat surprised by the suggestion himself. He couldn’t even blame it on the port since he’d sobered up a good hour ago. It wasn’t a gentlemanly offer. On the contrary, it was downright ungentlemanly, only now that he’d made it, he found himself somewhat ardently hoping she’d say yes. ‘Well, for a start, because you helped me earlier and now I’d like to help you. I admit that kissing isn’t something I’d usually suggest to a young lady, but we might consider it as a practical experiment, a way to work out how you feel about the whole process.’

‘I see.’ She lifted her chin, looking down her nose at him. ‘So kissing me would constitute your good deed for the day?’

‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that. I told you, I’m more than happy to do it.’

‘How gallant of you to say so.’

‘Forgive me—’ he couldn’t help but smile at her sarcasm ‘—I didn’t mean to imply any selflessness on my part. I’m sure I would enjoy the experience, too. It would just be one kiss, one single, solitary, utterly harmless kiss.’

‘Something tells me Gilbert wouldn’t see it that way.’

‘Gilbert? That’s the name of your suitor?’

‘Yes.’ She blinked. ‘What’s wrong with Gilbert?’

‘Nothing, only I’m Mr Whitlock.’

‘Because we’ve only just met!’

‘True, but since you’re thinking about kissing me, you might at least call me Cassius.’

‘I never said I was thinking about kissing you.’

‘But you are?’

‘No!’ She shook her head so emphatically that auburn hair tumbled forward over her shoulders. ‘I couldn’t possibly.’

‘Why not?’ He let his eyes follow the lustrous waves downwards. They reached to just below her breasts. If she were naked, the sight would be quite tantalising. His imagination was already running riot… ‘I don’t suppose you could shake your head again?’

She ignored his request. ‘How could I marry Gilbert after kissing someone else?’

‘You wouldn’t have to tell him.’

‘That would be even more wicked!’

‘All right then, tell him the truth: that you needed to know what the experience was like.’

‘Then he’ll say that I should have asked him to kiss me.’

‘Exactly!’ Cassius grinned triumphantly. ‘Only he shouldn’t have needed to be asked. He should have done it already. That’s as good a reason as any for not marrying him, in my opinion. The man’s clearly insane.’

‘Mr Whitlock…’ she pursed her lips, looking and sounding like an archetypal schoolmistress ‘…either you’re teasing me or you’re a Lothario.’

‘Millie…’ he shifted closer, emulating her tone ‘…if I were a Lothario, then I wouldn’t have asked if you wanted to be kissed, I would simply have done it. Then I would have found us another bottle of port and made some excuse to escort you upstairs. You were the one who came down, remember? And I believe you were also the one who first mentioned kissing?’

‘Oh, yes…’ her brow wrinkled ‘…so I did.’

‘And, as for teasing, I assure you that my offer is entirely genuine.’ His leg brushed inadvertently against hers, though since it was there he didn’t bother to move it away. ‘The truth is I’d rather like to kiss you. Your lips look quite extraordinarily kissable, especially now.’

‘Why especially now?’

‘Because you look so surprised.’ He brought his face alongside hers, murmuring into her ear, ‘Is it really so inconceivable that I might want to kiss you?’

‘Honestly?’ A small tremor seemed to run through her before she moved her head back to look him in the eyes again. ‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Nobody’s ever wanted to before.’

‘Only as far as you know.’

‘Well, yes, but…’ She drew her bottom lip into her mouth and sucked, unconsciously, he was certain, though the gesture struck him as intensely sensual. ‘Just one kiss?’

‘Just one and we’ll stop whenever you want. We don’t even have to talk about it afterwards. We can talk about something else entirely. The East India Company in China, for example. Personally I consider their behaviour reprehensible, but Peel and his government seem deter—’

‘Cassius?’

‘Yes?’

‘I think I’d prefer not to talk about the Prime Minister right now.’

‘As you wish. I’m a Whig myself…’

‘Cassius?’

‘Yes?’

‘You can kiss me. Just once…’ her pupils seemed to swell as she spoke ‘…and just as an experiment.’

‘With pleasure.’

He lifted a hand to her cheek and drew her face gently, but steadily, towards him. Her eyes opened wide for a split second and then closed as his lips touched against hers, though she didn’t pull away as he’d half-expected she might. On the contrary, she swayed closer, actually increasing the pressure of the kiss as she let out a small, barely distinguishable sigh. The sound seemed to warm his insides, heating his blood and making his heart skip a beat and then start to pump at twice its usual speed. Her lips were just as kissable as they’d appeared, velvety smooth and tasting of hot, sweet tea. Perfectly delicious, in fact. He slid his tongue between them, stroking the inside of her mouth, also delicious, then brought his other hand up to slide through the soft red waves of her hair.

She reached for his shoulders and a bolt of desire, startling in its intensity, shot through him with the force of a bullet. Damn it. He let his hand fall from her hair. This was a mistake. So much for one utterly harmless kiss. With this woman, he had a feeling that one kiss would never be anywhere near enough. He wanted more, much more, several hours’ worth of more, in fact. Which meant that he had to stop now before all the blood rushed to the lower half of his body and he lost the ability to make rational decisions.

He broke away, clearing his throat to disguise the ragged sound of his breathing.

‘Well…’ He picked up his cup and drained the contents in a few short gulps, doing his best to adopt a suitably detached expression. ‘I think, as experiments go, that was quite satisfactory.’

‘Ye—es.’ Her own breath emerged in shallow gasps as she looked at him dazedly for a few moments and then seemed to come back to herself, wrenching her hands away from his shoulders. ‘It was…illuminating.’

‘Good.’ Apparently his throat needed clearing a second time. ‘Then I hope it helps you come to a decision.’

‘A decision?’ She looked confused. ‘Oh, you mean about Gilbert. Yes, perhaps I’ve misjudged him, after all.’

‘What?’

‘Well, as you say, the experiment was quite satisfactory. Perhaps kissing him won’t be such a problem.’

‘But that wasn’t the point!’

‘Yes, it was. We were trying to establish if I liked kissing in principle.’

Cassius rubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling unreasonably offended. Had they been trying to establish that? Now that he thought of it, he’d said something similar. Only he’d been so intent upon kissing her that perhaps he hadn’t thought the idea through…

‘Well, yes, I suppose. Or at least I was trying to prove that kissing can, should, be pleasurable, but kissing one person isn’t the same as kissing another.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because everyone is different.’

‘Then why didn’t you tell me that before?’ Her tone was accusing. ‘You said that kissing you would help me to imagine kissing Gilbert!’

‘Did I?’

‘Yes!’ She blinked. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘I’m not entirely sure I remember.’ He clamped his brows together. ‘Perhaps you should try imagining it now?’

‘I can’t right now! It wouldn’t be right.’

‘No, perhaps not. Here.’ He picked up her cup of tea and handed it to her. What was it his aunt had always said? Nothing like a cup of tea in a crisis. And if this wasn’t a crisis he didn’t know what was. ‘Drink up before it gets cold.’

‘Thank you.’ She took a few sips, watching him warily out of the corner of her eye before putting the cup down again and standing up. ‘I ought to get back to bed. It’s very late.’

‘Of course.’ He stood up, too, making a small, awkward bow. ‘I hope that you sleep well, Miss Fairclough. I apologise for the misunderstanding.’

‘Not at all.’ She seemed to have trouble meeting his gaze. ‘It was my fault, too. Perhaps we should just forget it ever happened?’

‘Consider it done.’

‘Thank you.’ She started towards the door and then stopped, half-twisting her face back towards him. ‘When you say it would be different with Gilbert, how different exactly do you mean?’

‘Well…’ He felt an unmistakable pang of jealousy. ‘I suppose that depends on how much you feel like polishing some brass right now.’

‘Oh… I see. Well, goodnight then, Mr Whitlock. I hope that you don’t have any more bad dreams.’

Cassius waited until the parlour door had closed shut behind her before dropping into his armchair. No matter how bad they’d been before, he had a feeling his dreams for the rest of the night were going to tell a whole different story.