Louise Allen - Regency Surrender - Passion And Rebellion

‘You have a nerve to describe him as a slow-top,’ she breathed. ‘You fell for exactly the same lie he did.’

‘Did I? I’m not so certain any more. Deep down I think I always knew my father was behind it. I knew what my father was like. I should have known he would thrust a spoke in my wheel, if he were to discover I’d decided to marry you, rather than tamely submit to the plans he’d started making for me. He must have been livid when his spies brought back tales of me planning to marry a nobody, and settle down in obscurity, just as he thought he’d finally got me to knuckle under. And even if it wasn’t true, about you...but I told myself it must be. It made sense, you see.’

‘What do you mean? How could it make sense? What had I ever done to make you think I was...that kind of woman?’

‘You’d appeared to fall for me practically at first sight,’ he said bleakly. ‘When everyone else knew there was nothing special about me. I was only the youngest son of four. The runt of the litter. The one with no ambition. The one whose only talent was for drawing, a subject more suited to women than to real men.’

‘That’s utter nonsense.’

‘It was what I felt, at the time. That you couldn’t possibly have seen anything in me to admire, apart from my susceptibility to your charms. I could believe you might have seen me as a pigeon ripe for plucking. And then there was the matter of your behaviour.’ The corners of his mouth pulled into something very like a sneer. ‘You were the daughter of a vicar. At first you seemed so prim and proper, but in no time at all you were letting me lure you into secluded places. Nay, you encouraged me to lure you into secluded places so that I could kiss you, Amy. So you could set my blood on fire. And I was always the one to call a halt. I got the feeling you would have let me do whatever I wanted...’

Yes, she would have done. Because she’d loved him. Loved him! And all the time...

Something inside her snapped. She flew at him, pounding at his chest with her fists. He grabbed her wrists to hold her at a distance, which so infuriated her she kicked out at his legs, twisting and hissing like a cat.

But Nathan was far stronger than her. He just held her at arm’s length until, exhausted, she would have collapsed into a sobbing heap at his feet if he hadn’t scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the sofa where he cradled her on his lap, rocking her as she carried on weeping.

‘I hate you,’ she said, when she could at last find the breath, and the control, to form words.

‘It’s no more than I deserve.’

‘You...you...destroyed me...’

‘My father destroyed us both. The last ten years have been sheer hell, Amy—’

‘No. You destroyed us. You had no faith in me. Not even when we met again. You deliberately seduced me, for...for revenge, I suppose.’

‘Yes.’ There was no point in denying it. That was exactly what he’d done. ‘At first, I did want revenge. Until I discovered the truth. And then all I felt was remorse. I wanted to make reparation for all the misery I caused you. I wanted to wipe out the misery by making you happy instead. By giving you one perfect month. A month where you had all you’d ever wanted. But somewhere along the way I fell in love with you all over again.’

‘You don’t love me. You never loved me. You couldn’t, to have believed such foul lies.’

‘I did love you, Amy. Not enough, it is true. But I love you more now. For knowing that you were innocent. For growing into the woman you are now. Strong, and independent, and wary, and fiery...’

‘You don’t know me any better now than you knew me then,’ she cried, wriggling off his lap. ‘Not if you think I’m going to have anything to do with you ever again, after learning what you did to me.’

‘Amy, please...’

He reached for her, but she darted away from him, towards the door.

‘Don’t leave like this,’ he begged her. ‘Not while you are so upset. You shouldn’t be alone...’

‘I have been alone,’ she breathed, ‘for the last ten years.’ She dashed a tear from her cheek with an angry swipe of her hand. ‘And alone is exactly how I like it. If you don’t let anyone near you, then nobody can hurt you.’

‘That’s true. But it’s going to be a lonely life, if you cling to that belief and never let anyone near.’

‘No. It won’t be. Lonely is when you are surrounded by people who betray you. And despise you. And only pay you attention when they want something. That is loneliness.’

She flew to the door and ran out.

Oh, God, she was so angry she couldn’t see straight. He should know. He’d been in just such a fury on the night Fielding destroyed his hope in the possibility of marrying for love. So he plunged straight after her. He couldn’t bear it if some harm befell her on the crowded streets.

He didn’t try to stop her, for he knew she was in no fit state to listen to reason. He just kept her in his sights, ready to intervene should she run into danger, until he’d seen her reach her lodgings safely. And then he went to find her friend, and her French lover, to tell them that she needed them. She wouldn’t tolerate him anywhere near, for a while, but she must not be alone.

Eventually, the first flood of her anger would recede, and then, by hook or by crook, he would make her listen to him again.

That was the one advantage he had now, which she had lacked the last time this same lie had driven them apart. She’d had no weapons with which to defend herself. No idea she’d even needed to prove her innocence. She’d been completely in the dark.

But this time, they both knew exactly where they stood. And he wasn’t going to give her up without a fight. He was no longer an insecure youth, torn between staying loyal to his family and taking a chance on love. He was a man now. A man who’d learned that love was worth fighting for.

Whatever it took. No matter how long it took.

Chapter Twelve

She had to get the portrait from him.

She couldn’t believe, now, that she’d been stupid enough to pose for it. Naked. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were burning with mortification.

If he was desperate enough for security to ask her to marry him, he’d have no compunction about selling it if she left it behind in Paris. Or deliberately displaying it somewhere if he decided to take a more humiliating revenge for her refusal. He had a reputation for not being particularly kind to former lovers. And she had turned him down in the most insulting terms. She’d called him a slow-top, she’d accused him of being shallow and marrying his first wife for her money, of being faithless and worthless and she didn’t know what else.

Oh, yes. She’d told him she hated him, and then, when ten years of repressed rage had swelled up, the dam had burst and she’d physically attacked him.

Not that he didn’t deserve every name she’d called him, but it hadn’t been a wise move to make an enemy of him all over again. Only look what lengths he’d gone to the last time, when he’d only thought she’d betrayed him. He’d coldly, deliberately done the very worst thing he could have done to her. He’d flaunted another woman—a rich, titled woman—in her face. Even gone so far as to marry her to make doubly sure he inflicted the maximum hurt he possibly could.

Not only that, but he’d held on to his anger for ten years. He’d admitted he started up their affair because he wanted revenge.

No. Nathan Harcourt wasn’t a man to cross with impunity. He’d get his own back on her somehow.

Well then. Her mouth compressed into a hard line. She’d just have to force herself to go and see him, one last time, before she left Paris. Offer him whatever he wanted to release the portrait to her.