Читать книгу Regency Collection 2013 Part 1 - Хелен Диксон, Louise Allen, Хелен Диксон - Страница 23

‘Lord Penrith, Miss Mallory.’

Bree bit her lip and glanced down at the simple lines of her muslin morning gown. She had been determined not to dress up and look as though she was expecting a proposal from an earl; now she worried that she was insultingly underdressed.

‘I must go and write to my aunt,’ Rosa announced, folding the Morning Post and laying it to one side. ‘I will say good morning to his lordship on my way past.’

‘Don’t go!’

Rosa sent her a look compounded of affection, exasperation and encouragement. ‘Show his lordship in, Peters.’

‘Yes, Miss Thorpe.’

Her companion disappeared on the heels of the footman, leaving Bree with the sensation that she had been cast adrift.

Rosa’s voice carried clearly from the hallway. ‘Good morning, my lord, what a pleasant day we had yesterday. I do thank you for it.’

‘Good morning, Miss Thorpe. It was my pleasure, and of course the Whips are indebted to Miss Mallory for arranging the coach.’

They were chatting just outside the door while she sat there in the grip of panic, feeling as though she were about to have a tooth pulled or worse.

‘Do go in, my lord,’ Rosa said brightly. ‘I have a little errand, but Miss Mallory will be delighted to receive you.’

The door, which had been left ajar, opened and Max came in, closing it behind him. ‘Good morning, Bree. Are you delighted?’ His voice was deep and gentle and lightly teasing.

‘Of course,’ she responded brightly. ‘Good morning, my lord. Please, do sit down. Would you care for some coffee? Rosa will be back in a moment.’

His expression was politely disbelieving. ‘I think we are safe for some time, and no, thank you, I am not in need of refreshment.’

‘Oh.’ Bree found she was perched on the edge of the chaise and made herself sit back and arrange her limbs with rather more grace. ‘I had a delightful day yesterday. I so enjoyed the drive and the picnic.’

‘And the rest of the day?’

‘Not the encounter with Mr Latymer, disgusting man. I must thank you again for rescuing me. I am intending to write to Mr Harlow today to thank him also for his support.’

‘And no doubt the drive back was delightful?’

‘Indeed it was. I have to say that you drive far more smoothly than Mr Latymer, my lord.’

‘Thank you.’ Max inclined his head gravely to acknowledge the compliment. ‘Which leaves us with just one part of the day to discuss.’

‘Yes.’ Bree made herself keep her head up and not seek refuge in looking at her clasped hands. ‘I … I acted very improperly and I am most grateful for your restraint in not taking advantage of my forward behaviour, my lord.’

‘Will you please stop calling me my lord every sentence?’ he demanded.

‘No. I do not think I will, my lord. I have allowed myself to get into the way of addressing and treating you with undue familiarity. I am sure it contributed to what occurred yesterday.’

‘Ah. So you characterise that incident in the drag as improper, forward and the result of undue familiarity, but you feel I did not take advantage of that undue familiarity, do you, Miss Mallory?’ His voice was very quiet and calm. Bree found she had wrapped the ribbon that trimmed her bodice into a tight knot round her thumb. It hurt.

‘Yes.’ She disentangled her thumb, frowning down at the crumpled dark blue satin as though its wreck was a matter of the utmost importance.

‘Would you be surprised to know that my friends consider me adept at keeping my temper under control? That I am, in fact, renowned for that control and that they try, on occasion, to make me lose my temper for a bet? They do not succeed.’

‘I am not surprised, my lord. I saw you lose your temper yesterday, but you very soon had your emotions under restraint.’ Her own emotions were threatening to escape, either in a fit of hysteria or a demand that he leave at once before she said anything rash, like I love you.

Max got to his feet with a suddenness that took her completely by surprise. He covered the space between them in one long stride, took her firmly by each arm, just above the elbows, and hauled her to her feet.

‘Well, observe me about to lose my temper, Miss Mallory, because I assure you, one more my lord out of you, one more attempt to dismiss what happened yesterday as the result of some kind of foolish imprudence on your part, and I swear you will experience the full force of it.’

She was very firmly held, although Max was not hurting her. She wondered hazily what would happen if she screamed, or struggled. She ought to feel afraid after the way Brice Latymer had manhandled her yesterday, but she was not. All she felt was warm, agitated in a deliciously arousing sort of way and anxious, although she was not certain about what.

‘What are you going to do?’ Her mouth was quite dry, her knees were rapidly turning to jelly and she was fleetingly grateful that he was holding her so very firmly, or she rather thought she would melt in a puddle at his feet. ‘My lord?’ she added, casting a match on the kindling.

‘This,’ he growled, and yanked her close to his chest, bent his head and kissed her with a ruthless efficiency that had her whimpering against his mouth. She wanted to hold on to him, but her arms were trapped by her side.

‘Now.’ Max set her back from him as abruptly as he had kissed her. ‘Will you stop this nonsense? What happened was the result of something strong and important between us. Are you telling me you do not recognise it?’

‘No. No, I’m not. Max, will you please let go of my arms?’

‘What?’ He looked down at his hands as though only just aware that he was gripping her. He opened his hands as though she were hot. ‘Hell. Am I hurting you?’

‘No, but it was stopping me doing this.’ Bree reached up, curled her arms round his neck and kissed him, as softly as his kiss had been hard. ‘No!’ She stepped back, holding up a hand to hold him where he was, and took refuge behind the chaise. ‘I know how I felt, what it meant to me, but I cannot think straight while you are holding me.’

‘Good.’ His eyes were dark, intense and thrilling. ‘I don’t want you thinking straight while I am kissing you.’

‘But we cannot keep doing that,’ Bree said, amazed to find her own voice steady and reasonable. ‘It is scandalous behaviour.’

‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ His voice changed, flattened. Bree sensed the energy draining out of him to be replaced with something akin to resignation.

‘Bree, come and sit down. I promise not to pounce on you again.’

Cautiously she came round the side of the chaise and perched on the edge, relaxing a little as Max sat opposite. He was just too big to be looming over her in the feminine sitting room.

‘Bree. I came here intending to ask you to marry me.’

‘Oh. Oh, Max, I was so afraid you would feel you had to ask.’

‘And I was expecting you to say just that.’ He leaned back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully over clasped hands. ‘You are going to repeat all this nonsense about your father’s family, about being in trade, about managing the company, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, and it is not nonsense,’ she said stoutly.

‘Bree, you have enough good connections to satisfy even my grandmother, and that is saying something. You have beauty and intelligence and charm and courage. You would make a magnificent countess.’

He means it. The dazzling prospect hung before her, then the sense of his words registered. ‘You were intending to ask me? I would make a magnificent countess?’

‘There is something I must tell you. Something I thought I could say nothing about until I was certain it was resolved. And then I let my feelings get the better of me, and I have ended up compromising you.’

‘It was equally my fault,’ she retorted. So that is why he says nothing about love. He has compromised me, so he feels he must make the best of it and marry me. ‘And I am not ruined, nobody knows but us, and Rosa, so there is no need to feel obligated in any way.’

Damn, she is convinced I feel I must propose to her. Max wrestled with his conscience. He had come intending to throw all caution to the wind, to tell Bree he loved her, that he wanted to marry her. But as he had looked into those wide, trusting eyes, he knew he could not risk binding her to him, that to do so was less than honourable. And to tell her that he loved her risked drawing her in dangerously close. She already liked and trusted him, he knew she desired him. But love was a step too far to hazard, and, if they could not marry, it was better if only one of them were nursing a broken heart. He deserved that it was he.

‘Bree, I have been married before. I may still be married.’

Max saw the colour drain out of Bree’s face, leaving only spots on her cheekbones as though someone had pressed rose petals to the skin. Even her lips seemed to have paled.

‘You were married, and now you do not know if you are or not?’

‘Yes. I was married ten years ago. My wife, Drusilla, left me only weeks later. Let me tell you it from the beginning.’

He began to speak, managing to keep his voice dispassionate as he recounted the story. Bree’s eyes never left his face, but as he spoke she curled up into the corner of the chaise, her feet tucked up under her skirts, her arms hugging a cushion for unconscious comfort.

Doggedly he continued the tale, trying to explain, when he hardly understood it himself, why he had left it so long to find his errant wife.

‘Why did you decide to trace her in the end?’ she asked. Her colour had come back, her gaze on his face was less intense, her arms around the cushion more relaxed. Max realised with an overwhelming sense of relief that she was not going to reject him out of hand for what had happened.

‘I became restless to have the matter settled, to know where I was.’ He smiled at her. ‘Nevill is a fine young man, but I found I wanted a son of my own to succeed me.

‘I engaged an enquiry agent, a man called Ryder. He has been seeking for her. Now he believes he knows what happened to her family—they died of smallpox in Winchester, seven years ago.’

‘Poor souls.’ Bree’s instinctive reaction, the distress in her voice, caught at his heart. ‘And you do not know if she, Drusilla, died with them?’

‘Yes, I do not know. Ryder is still searching, but the registers are unclear. There was an epidemic in the city, the parish priest was taken ill too, record keeping was a shambles.’

‘So you may be a widower, but you cannot tell?’

‘No.’ What do I hope for? Not for Drusilla to have died of that hideous disease. Just for the impossible, just to never had made the mistake and married her in the first place. ‘It seems likely, but how can I be sure? I have no idea how she came to be parted from her lover. I will probably never know, unless I find her alive.’

‘Oh, Max.’ Bree leaned forward, caught his hands in hers before he could stop her. He found, prudence be damned, that he needed her touch. ‘I am so sorry. What a truly terrible thing, not to know. What will you do now?’

‘I think I need to go to Winchester, to join Ryder and see if we can find some witness to what happened to the family, who died, who lived.’

‘And what then?’ She was pale to the lips, but composed, her chin firm without a tremor. Thank God, she is not as affected as I feared. It is just desire and friendship on her part, she does not feel as I do.

‘If she is alive, then I will seek a divorce.’ He ignored Bree’s shocked intake of breath. ‘If she is not, then I will return and ask you again to marry me. If it is to be a divorce, then I cannot say how long it will take. It requires a private Act of Parliament. Will you wait for me, Bree?’

‘No. No, I will not, you cannot. Max, you do not have to marry me. You have married once, out of your class, and see what became of it. I am wrong for you, I know it. Do you want to set another tragedy in train?’ She released his hands with enough force to throw them apart and was on her feet before he could catch her to him.

‘Do not touch me, Max. We do not seem to have the self-control that we should. You must not marry me, even if you are free to do so now. I cannot tell you what to do if you still find yourself married, that is for your own conscience, but you must not divorce her for any thought of marriage to me.’

Bree turned to face him, spots of colour on her high cheekbones, her mouth trembling. He found he had no desire to kiss it. He had expected shock; he had not expected such a comprehensive rejection of his suit. But I love you! No, he could not say that now, it was too late, it would sound like an attempt at emotional blackmail. I have lost her. Nothing mattered in the face of that realisation, nothing in the world.

‘I think you had better go, Max,’ she said steadily. ‘I appreciate very much your gallantry in offering for me after what happened yesterday. I cannot say I regret it, although I know that I should.’ A fleeting smile twisted the corner of her mouth. ‘I wish I could keep you as a friend, but I do not think it wise, do you? Not after this—’

‘Bree! Are you in? Oh, yes, so you are.’ It was Piers, out of breath and urgent, something clutched in his hand. ‘Look at this! Betsy has written us a letter.’

‘What?’ Bree twitched the paper out of his hand. Max could see that the interruption had upset her precarious balance. ‘Betsy?’ He saw the focus come back into her eyes and was perversely, savagely glad that he had unsettled her to that extent.

‘It is Uncle George,’ Piers said. ‘I can hardly make out her handwriting, but something is very wrong—we must go.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course we must. Let me think. It is too late to catch a stage. We had better hire a chaise.’

‘Take mine.’ Max put all the authority he could muster into the statement, not knowing whether she would respond to it at all. Bree turned to him, the resolute lines her face had settled into swept away by a warm smile.

‘Max, thank you. You are such a good friend. I should not accept I know, but I am going to.’

Is that what it has come to? That I am her good friend? I can make her happy with the loan of a chaise, it seems. She can break my heart with a smile. A little while ago I would have been content with friendship. Now the very word is coals of fire when I want so much more.

‘Think nothing of it. I will have it sent round at once.’