Louise Allen - Regency Surrender - Passion And Rebellion

‘A gentleman,’ he said, with a slight inflection on the word which suggested he very much doubted it. ‘He claims to have made an appointment. And says his name is Mr Brown.’

How perceptive Adams was. No wonder her aunt had kept him on when she could have saved a fortune by hiring a female as housekeeper to do more or less the same job.

‘You are correct upon all counts,’ she said, causing one of his eyebrows to quirk, just a fraction. ‘He was introduced to me, at church yesterday, as Mr Brown and I did agree to see him.’

The eyebrow rose just a fraction more.

‘And, no, I do not think he is a gentleman either.’

His face returned to its proper state of butlerish blandness.

‘Shall I bring refreshments to the morning room? I took the liberty of showing him in there, rather than leaving him cluttering up the hall.’

In spite of her nerves, Amethyst couldn’t help smiling at this restrained display of humour.

‘Yes, please,’ she said. ‘Tea would be most welcome.’

Her mouth had gone very dry. And going through all the ceremony of pouring and serving would at least give her something to do if the interview didn’t go the way she hoped.

‘Tea. Of course, miss. He looks just the sort of man,’ said Adams with a perfectly straight face, ‘to enjoy drinking tea in the middle of the day.’

And with that last caustic comment upon the character of a man who had come calling upon a single lady when everyone knew she didn’t have a chaperon, he bowed himself out of the room.

And then, since there was no mirror in the study she hastily checked her fractured reflection in the multiple panes of the glass-fronted bookshelves, one last time, before going to meet Nathan. Although she’d checked it every few turns of the room, so knew exactly what she looked like. It was just that it was hard to credit she looked so neat and tidy when inside she felt as though she was coming unravelled.

He’d dressed with great care too, she noted the moment she entered the morning room, in immaculate breeches and topcoat, his pristine neckcloth foaming from a damask silk waistcoat. He truly was a sight for sore eyes.

He got to his feet and took a step towards her, then stopped, as though unsure of his welcome.

She smiled, or at least tried to. She was so nervous that it felt a little wobbly and yet tight at the same time.

‘Please, won’t you sit down?’ she said, waving to the seat on the other side of the fireplace as she took her aunt’s chair.

Some of the stiffness left his face at her tentative gesture of welcome.

‘I wasn’t sure if you would even let me in,’ he said, resting his arms on the arm of the chair and leaning forwards.

‘I shouldn’t have done,’ she replied. ‘It is not the thing to receive a single gentleman when I am without a chaperon. The whole town will be scandalised.’

A frown flickered across his face.

‘The last thing I want to do is plunge you into a scandal. That is why I decided it would be better if I got here well before you came back, so it wouldn’t look as if there was already anything between us. You made it so obvious that my notoriety would be an issue, here in this little town, that I have done all I can to prevent anyone knowing exactly who, and what, I am.’

Oh. That made perfect sense.

And was incredibly sweet of him.

‘That is why you are using an assumed name?’

‘Of course. You made it so clear you weren’t interested in marrying a man of my notoriety, that I was sure you wouldn’t want anyone knowing you’d had a liaison with the notorious Nathan Harcourt. So I took a leaf out of your courier’s book. He successfully managed to court your companion under the name of Brown. I hoped it might be as lucky for me.’

‘C-courting?’ Her breath hitched in her throat. He’d come all this way to court her. In spite of the way they’d parted, her conviction she’d driven him away for good. He must have meant every one of those proposals which she’d discounted, for varying reasons.

‘Yes. Courting.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘And I’d better warn you that I’ve spent my time in this town learning as much as I could about you—surreptitiously, of course—in the hopes that I might find a chink in your armour.’

‘B-but you love Paris. You were so happy there...’

‘It would have been a wasteland without you in it. Don’t you realise, yet, that I cannot be happy anywhere, unless you are with me?’

He did love her, then. Enough to abandon the work he loved and the home he’d made for himself. Assume a false identity and put up with Mrs Podmore taking him under her wing.

Nobody had ever exerted themselves to such an extent on her account.

‘Y-yes. Actually, I think I do,’ she admitted shyly. ‘Because I have been utterly miserable since our last meeting. I was such an idiot to drive you away.’ Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I was so scared I’d driven you away for good.’

He left his chair to kneel at her feet. He seized her hands.

‘Does this mean what I hope it means? I’ve been telling myself that once your temper had cooled and you could think things over rationally, you would be able to forgive me. And give me another chance.’

‘I will give you as many chances as you want, so long as you are able to forgive me for being so...’ She screwed up her face in disgust as she thought of how narrow-minded and judgemental she’d been. ‘For being such a...’

He placed one finger over her lips.

‘I’ve no right to condemn you for anything you’ve done, or thought. Not with my record.’

He tugged at her hands and drew her to her feet.

‘Miss Dalby, once and for all, will you forget all the past mistakes we’ve both made and marry me?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She sighed. And then, because her legs went limp, she leaned forwards, rested her head on his chest and said, ‘Yes, please.’

‘Thank God,’ he muttered fervently, putting both arms round her and hugging her tight.

And it felt like coming home. No, better than any home she’d ever known. He was the only person who’d ever accepted her, liked her, loved her, just as she was. Everyone else had tried to change her. Sway her opinions to match their own. But not Nathan.

And then just hugging him wasn’t enough. Amethyst raised her face hopefully and he obliged her by meeting her halfway in a kiss. A kiss that went on and on, as though they both needed to drink the other in.

It was only Adams, scuffling against the door as he prepared to bring in the tea tray, that made them break apart, smiling ruefully.

By the time he placed the tray on the table, they were both seated in the chairs that flanked the fireplace, looking perfectly respectable, if a little flushed and breathless.

Adams glanced from one to the other. His face went more wooden than usual and, without a word, he made a swift exit.

Amethyst’s hand was shaking too much to pour the tea.

‘Never mind that,’ said Nathan with a smile. ‘It wasn’t to drink tea that I came here today. I had this great long speech planned.’

She darted him a shy smile. ‘Should I apologise for stopping you making it?’

He grinned back at her. ‘Not in the least. It was just...well, I have a few things I do need to tell you, before I make an honest woman of you. I’d thought I would need to prove to you that I could at least appear respectable if I stood a chance of persuading you that I was husband material, rather than only being good enough for a temporary liaison...’

A pang of guilt shot through her. Had she really made him feel like that? It was so typical of the way she’d been—never giving a thought to what her actions might make other people feel like.