Louise Allen - Regency Surrender - Passion And Rebellion

A new start. Yes, she could see why he would want that after the mess he’d made of what should have been a glittering political career. Hadn’t she also left Stanton Basset because it was what she was looking for herself? A chance to break free from the expectations of others, the obligations that weighed her down?

‘The trouble is,’ she said, putting on a frown, ‘that since I’ve come to Paris, people keep on mistaking me for a woman of easy virtue. What do you suppose,’ she said, shooting him a coy look from under her lashes, ‘that means?’

‘I think it means,’ he said, setting his empty glass down carefully on the nearest available surface, ‘that it is time you fulfilled your potential.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Decidedly yes,’ he said, taking her arm and leading her to the nearest exit. ‘If you are determined to play the part of my...chère amie,’ he husked into her ear, ‘then it is about time you put in a bit more practice.’

‘Does this mean what I hope it means?’

‘Yes,’ he replied firmly. ‘I’m taking you back to my rooms. I’ve let you see ze most important man, and all zees so important people. Now you need to pay for me giving you zis treat,’ he said playfully, imitating her dreadful French accent.

‘Ooh,’ she breathed. ‘You are a hard taskmaster.’

‘Hard is the word,’ he agreed. ‘And these breeches simply don’t disguise a thing.’

She blushed. And then began to giggle. And kept on giggling as they pushed their way back through the throng climbing the stairs, as they made their way down.

Chapter Ten

They hurried back to his rooms as fast as they could.

‘I’m not going to have any breath left for lovemaking by the time we’ve climbed up all these stairs,’ Amethyst grumbled as they reached the first landing.

‘You won’t need to do a thing,’ he promised her. ‘Just lie back on the bed and let me do all the work.’

And he did.

Amy had never had so much attention devoted to her. So much care lavished on her body. Even before he entered her and took her to the heights, it felt really meaningful. What they were doing together was so incredible, so wonderful, so much more than anything she’d ever known she could experience that, yes, if she was a naïve, young, uneducated female, she might have mistaken it for love.

Especially since he gave himself to it with such...enthusiasm.

‘Amy, Amy, oh God, Amy!’

Nathan’s whole body shuddered as he groaned his release. He slumped to one side of her, gathered her in his arms and buried his face in her hair.

No wonder, she sighed, turning and wrapping her arms round his neck, women so very often mistook the attentions of a passionate lover for something deeper. He had made her feel loved.

And for the first time in her life, she hadn’t had to do anything to earn it, either.

‘Why so solemn?’

He’d opened his eyes and was watching her, she discovered. When she didn’t know what to answer, he smiled and gently traced the fullness of her lower lip with one finger.

‘You are full of contrasts, are you not? Nobody, seeing you so solemn after giving yourself to me, would believe you are the same woman who was so playful earlier tonight, when most people would have been trying to impress.’

‘What are you trying to say?’

He shrugged. ‘Just that there are so many sides to you I never knew existed when...when I knew you before.’

‘I am not the same person I was back then.’ In fact, she could scarcely recognise herself any more. She’d certainly never suspected she had it in her to mimic a French accent and play-act at being a lightskirt, for the sheer fun of it. She’d always been sober and serious, even as a girl. Getting her heart broken, having her family roundly rebuke her, then spending years living with her embittered, man-hating aunt had only made her more inclined to look on life as a dull, dreary grind that had to be endured. Her only fun, thus far, had come from pulling the rug out from under self-important people like Mrs Podmore, or giving people private nicknames, as she’d done to Monsieur le Prune. It was as if a new Amy was emerging, day by day, the further she got from Stanton Basset and all its petty restrictions.

What else might she discover about herself as she broke free from the habits she’d acquired without even knowing they were stifling her?

‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry? You don’t like me as I am now?’ She’d just been likening herself to a butterfly uncurling its wings from a crusty chrysalis and he’d preferred her as she was?

‘No. I do. I mean, I am sorry for how things ended between us back then. I was cruel to you. I hurt you,’ he said, kissing her forehead gently. ‘I wish I hadn’t. I wish it were possible to go back to a time before everything went wrong. I let you down very badly. Can you...could you ever forgive me, do you think?’

A few days ago she would have said no, she would never forgive him. She’d been so full of rage and bitterness. But she must have started to forgive him without any conscious effort, or she wouldn’t be in bed with him now, would she? And those same few days ago, she would never have imagined running down the stairs, hand in hand with Nathan Harcourt, giggling like a schoolgirl after the mischievous trick she’d played on their hosts, either.

Had letting go of her anger with him been what had made such a difference? Was that why she felt so much lighter of heart now?

‘Forgiveness...is a strange thing to be talking about while we are naked,’ she said, reaching for the sheet. It was funny, but she was more aware of her nudity now they were starting to discuss feelings.

‘For instance, my parents were adamant that there was nothing to forgive.’ And perhaps there hadn’t been, not really. He might have toyed with her affections, but he’d drawn the line at seducing her. Given the reputation he’d since gained, it was amazing he’d behaved with such restraint. She’d been so infatuated with him he could very easily have talked her into bed. Well, it hadn’t exactly taken much to persuade her into it now, had it? A few smouldering looks, a couple of invitations, one hard kiss and she’d climbed five flights of stairs for the privilege.

‘They were quick to point out that you never proposed to me, so I had no right to complain, or even to feel hard done by.’ And for the first time, she could see their point. He’d stolen nothing beyond a few kisses. And he could have taken so much more. He could have ruined her before tossing her aside.

He reared up on his elbow.

‘What rot! I can’t let you shrug off my apology, saying the way we parted didn’t matter because I hadn’t actually made a formal declaration. I know I hurt you. I can still see the look on your face the night I cut you, then danced with every other girl in the place. Admit it. You were in love with me.’

He’d known how badly he’d hurt her that night? She’d shown it on her face? Well, she wasn’t an infatuated girl any longer, to wear her heart on her sleeve.

‘Why should I admit,’ she said haughtily, ‘anything of the kind?’

‘Because I was in love with you, too, that’s why. I did want to marry you.’ He rolled on to his back and stared hard-jawed at the ceiling. ‘We would have been perfect together,’ he said, in a voice that quivered with suppressed emotion. ‘My deepest wish, back then, was to live the life of a country gentleman, dabbling with my painting, raising a pack of happy children...’

Her stomach swooped. No matter how many people had told her she’d been mistaken, no matter how often she had told herself that she didn’t care, either, to hear him actually admit she’d been right all along gave her a tremendous surge of something that see-sawed between triumph and anguish.