A Secret Proposal (4 page)

He shook his head. “Amy, I can’t. It’s not appropriate, and if your mother finds out…”

“I’ll take care of that,” she said, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands. “Write me, Mr. Hammond, please. And I’ll write you.”

And so he had. At first they’d written about their grief. She’d called him Mr. Hammond, but he had always called her Amy and every time he did it was as if Paul were alive for a moment. But never, never in all their letters, had Thaddeus ever mentioned what happened that morning, and never, never had Amelia asked. They’d written about Paul, they’d written about London, about Thaddeus’s decision to open the boxing saloon, and Amelia’s coming out and even her engagement to Lord Colton. Soon after that, the letters had stopped. It would not be appropriate,
Thaddeus informed her, for a bachelor to correspond with a betrothed—and then married—lady.

Amelia had cried that day, knowing she wouldn’t hear from him again, but perhaps that’s how it was meant to be when two people had been in each other’s lives the way they had been. Perhaps their time together had come to its natural conclusion. And while she’d thought about him every day, she hadn’t written him, hadn’t attempted to get in contact in any way until today. Until she’d reminded him of his promise.

Now she stood only a few paces away from him. Candlelight gently touched his familiar face, the bridge of his nose, the scar near his eye. The scent of jasmine wafted through the summer air, and her throat went dry. “Why did you ask me to meet you?” she finally managed.

“I wanted to speak with you.”

“To tell me your condition?” she asked, feeling her face heat. She was thankful for the darkness so he couldn’t see her blush.

He gave her an exasperated look. “You’re still determined to go through with this?”

“You thought I’d change my mind?” She furrowed her brow.

The hint of a smile touched his lips. “I should know better than that, shouldn’t I?”

She nodded once.

“Very well,” he said. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

Amelia watched as Thaddeus stepped closer. He was over six feet tall. She had to tip back her head to look up at him. Why had she never noticed that about him before?

“What?” she asked, forcing the words past the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

He expelled his breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Blast it, Amy. I can’t think clearly when you look at me like that.”

She blinked. “Like what?” She had no idea she’d been giving him any sort of a look.

“All innocent and sweet. Do you have any idea how long it has been since I saw a look of pure innocence on a woman’s face?”

She blinked again. “No I…”

He glanced away and pushed his hands farther into his pockets, kicking at the stones on the terrace. He shook his head. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“What’s your condition, Thaddeus?” she asked in as measured a voice as she could muster. She wasn’t about to say it but it was difficult for her to concentrate too. With his muscles and his maddening smell, he looked like a giant wall of…male and smelled so good she wanted to taste
him. Thank heavens she’d only brought the one candle out here tonight. Had she borrowed an entire set, the bright blush on her face would no doubt be visible from Vauxhall.

Thaddeus swung around to face her. “If we’re going to do this, Amy, really do this, then we need to be clear.”

She flexed her hands to keep from wringing them. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’ll tell you what you need to know. I’ll even show you…a little, but there’s a point where we must draw the line and my condition is… I choose that point. You can say we stop at any time, of course, but so can I.”

Her mouth fell open. Stop? Draw the line? “But Thaddeus, you promised.”

His eyes flashed blue fire at her. “I’m doing this. I’m doing it for you, because you said you have no other choice, but don’t ask too much of me.” He closed his eyes then as if he was steeling himself against a strong wind. And that’s what convinced her. The nearly pained look on his face.

“All right, Thaddeus,” she whispered, bowing her head. “If that’s what you want.”

His voice was low. “It is.”

Very well. She wouldn’t ask for more than he could give her. Thaddeus ran with a fast and loose set. He’d probably spent more time in bed with gorgeous women than she cared to guess, but this was different. Asking him to spend the night with her. She was his closest friend’s sister. No doubt guilt was riding him mercilessly.

“I want you to know, Thaddeus, if there was anyone else I trusted, anyone else I could ask, I
wouldn’t do this to you.”

He groaned. “Do this to me? I consider it an honor, Amy. I just… I feel so damn wrong.”

She reached out and touched his arm then and a spark of awareness shot through her hand. “It’s not wrong. Don’t think of it that way. Think of it as if you’re doing me a favor.”

“Jesus, Amy. Don’t say that.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that.

He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing the short locks in an absolutely appealing manner. “Why do I feel your brother’s hands around my neck already? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

The statement hung between them for a moment before Amelia laughed. “That’s funny coming from—what is it the papers called you again—one of London’s most notorious rakes?”

He gave a mock gasp and covered his chest with his hand. “Which papers maligned me in such a heartless manner?”

“All of them,” she shot back.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to believe everything you read?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “But I don’t listen. Besides, as one of London’s most notorious rakes, I thought you might summon a bit more enthusiasm for the task.”

His eyes went wide. “Enthusiasm, eh?”

She was positively enjoying herself now. “Yes. If seducing ladies is your specialty, I take exception to the fact that you’re demonstrating marked resistance toward seducing me.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Amelia regretted them. “Oh, ahem, ah, not seducing exactly but…”

He stopped her then. Stopped her because he touched her. Her reached out and ran a warm fingertip across her cheekbone and Amelia forgot to breathe.

“It doesn’t have to be awkward, Amy,” he said and Amelia met his crystalline blue gaze.

“It d-doesn’t?”

“No.” The slightest shake of his head.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Drat. There was that hideous stammer again.

His thumb and finger moved to her chin. “What if I told you I wanted to kiss you?”

Her reply was caught in her throat. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. All she could do was stare up at him. “W-want to or willing to?”

“Want to,” he replied in a husky whisper. He tugged her closer, just before his lips moved down to cover hers.

Thaddeus’s mouth on hers was unlike anything Amelia had ever expected. His lips, sure and strong, molded to hers, directed her, taught her. And when his tongue moved to invade her mouth, her mind went entirely blank.

At first it was whisper light, but then it became more demanding and her hands moved up to his sleeves to clutch him, hold him, support herself. His muscles flexed beneath her fingers and she squeezed them, trying to remember the feel of them, the texture of them beneath the superfine weave of his coat. His mouth tasted like spice and heat. His wide hands splayed across
her back, pulling her closer against his rock-hard chest.

Desire—it had to be desire—shot through her like a painful knife. She wanted to clutch him forever. Never wanted his mouth to leave hers. He groaned against her lips and the desire rode her even harder. She moaned in response and he pressed her fully against him, making her heart skip. Turning her into molten heat, right there on the Richmonds’ terrace.

Soon. Too soon. His mouth stopped its gentle assault. He pulled away and Amelia stumbled a little, her arms flailing, feeling for the balustrade. He grabbed her, making sure she didn’t tip over.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a husky tone that made her want to grab him and kiss him again.

“Yes-ess-s.” Ugh. Obviously today was not the day to stop stammering. Exactly the opposite of the day, actually.

“Are you sure?”

Oh, he was just going to have to stop being so cute. Or she wouldn’t be able to wait for the Lexingtons’ house party.

“Uh huh,” she answered. “It’s just that…”

“What?” He looked positively boyish and she had the urge to run her fingers through his dark hair and muss it a bit more.

“It’s just that I never realized just how handsome you are before, Thaddeus. No wonder you’re one of London’s most notorious rakes.”

He threw back his head and laughed at that. “Let’s put it this way, the feeling is quite mutual. You’re a beauty yourself, Amy. And if I never hear that silly moniker about being a rake again, it will be too soon.”

Amelia glanced back toward the French doors behind them. “As much fun as I’m having out here being kissed by a notorious rake, no doubt Mama will be looking for me soon.” She took a deep breath. “Now, here’s my plan…”

The good news was Thad had managed to listen to Amy’s entire speech without dragging her back into his arms and kissing her again. She’d somehow managed to make him feel younger. She’d damn sure made him feel inexperienced again. He’d wanted to drag her off behind the bushes and fondle her like a lovesick adolescent. Instead, he’d managed to kiss her, not make a
complete
fool of himself, and let her go, while listening to her insane plan about how she intended to spend the night with him at the Lexingtons’ house party next week.

She’d slipped back through the French doors winking at him coquettishly, making him hard all over again. Hard, for the love of God! He was standing here on the Richmonds’ terrace, rock hard for Amy Templeton. He glanced up into the clear night sky. Lightning might as well strike him. And he was going straight to hell. The twinkling stars mocked him. Fine. Lightning was not imminent, but would it be if he carried on with this farce? And farce it most certainly was. When exactly had the bloody world gone mad and when, specifically, had he purchased a ticket for the mad coach? Yesterday had been a perfectly normal day. Today, today the world had turned on its axis and he was holding on for dear life. Or had been since Amy had come hurtling back into his
life. Why in God’s name had he agreed to her request again? Yes, he’d told her three years ago that he’d do anything for her, but he hadn’t expected
this
. Who would have
ever
expected such a thing? It was unheard of, unprecedented. Since when did impressionable young virgins make inappropriate, scandalous proposals to their brother’s closest friends? He stared at the empty doorway where she’d disappeared moments earlier. Apparently since today. He groaned. He’d agreed this afternoon mainly because he’d needed time to think. To absorb the enormity of her request and decide how best to respond.

From her letters, he knew Amy well enough to know that she wouldn’t take such a matter lightly, wouldn’t make such a request flippantly. She wasn’t like that. No matter how horribly her mother treated her, Amy was loyal to the woman and would do anything for her. Anything including sacrifice herself in marriage to an old goat just to please her social-climbing mother. Amy had to have been scared senseless to have cried off from Colton only to end up with the choice of Highland, Bartholomew, or Stanford. It was a hideous decision, after all, and Thad didn’t blame her for wanting to face down her fears before her wedding night. Damn her mother.

He’d actually come here tonight to try to talk Amy out of it, try to talk some sense into her. But he’d taken one look at her and she’d been so pretty and vulnerable, he hadn’t wanted to upset her and add to her fears by telling her he wouldn’t spend the night with her. Very well. He would spend the night with her—of sorts. He wasn’t about to add to his guilt by taking her virginity, but he could speak to her, tell her what to expect, make things clear to her. Obviously a woman should be sharing that information with her, not a male friend, but between her heartless
mother and
Secrets of a Wedding Night
, he didn’t blame Amy for being scared witless. It was inappropriate to say the least, but Thad would educate Amy on the real secrets of a wedding night. The good secrets. Not that he’d ever been married or planned to be. No, he’d leave that nonsense to his dutiful older brother, the white sheep. But fortunately, the secrets of a wedding night did not necessarily involve a wedding. He’d teach Amy, without actually making love to her, of course. Though God only knew it would prove to be unholy torture, especially considering what her innocent kiss had just done to him. But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make, he thought with a wry smile.

Amy had been worried about his securing an invitation to the Lexingtons’ house party. He’d put her fear to rest. Hell, half the male members of that family owed him money. They were regulars at his club and bet on matches quite frequently, not always with success. They’d be more than happy to allow him entrée into their house party for the forgiveness of a bit of debt. No, that wasn’t the problem. What gnawed at his soul was the fact that he would be seeing Mrs. Templeton again for the first time since that fateful day.

Amelia ducked behind a wall at the Lexingtons’ country house and peeked back to take another look at the stunning dark-haired couple strolling down the corridor. She peered around the corner, holding her breath.

Devon Morgan and Lily Andrews. Well, Lily Morgan now. The Marchioness of Colton. The woman who married the man Amelia had been planning to marry just two short months ago. Marchioness Lily was an incomparable beauty with black hair and violet eyes. Amelia dared a glance at Lord Colton. He was tall, dark, and undeniably handsome with dark-brown, slightly curly hair and deep brown eyes. Handsome, yes. But he’d always frightened Amelia a bit, to be honest.

She’d screwed up the courage to confront Lily once at a house party last spring. She’d accused her of writing the pamphlet solely to frighten her. In response, Lily had called her a bird and told her to see about her hair. Amelia had really only confronted her because Mama had raised the riot act over her head earlier in the day. Never able to yell at Mama, Amelia had felt she should yell at
someone
. It was quite unlike her actually, to raise her voice at all. In the end, it
had done little good. Mama had pretended to be all sweet and charming in the ballroom full of people as she escorted her distraught daughter away and then she’d taken Amelia up to their rooms and slapped her across the face. Amelia had fallen to her knees.

“That will teach you to embarrass me like that again,” Mama had railed. And it was all for nothing. Lily and Lord Colton had gone on to marry shortly after, and Amelia had remained unmarried and in a worse state than ever. Blast that stupid pamphlet. She wished for the hundredth time she’d never laid eyes upon it.

The Morgans continued their movement down the corridor and Amelia slipped away up the back staircase. It was more than unfortunate that Lily Morgan was at the house party. That was an unexpected complication. Amelia vowed to keep as far away from the haughty beauty as possible.

Amelia slipped back into her room. It was time for her nap before the festivities tonight. She’d already seen the Duke of Stanford. She’d been a bit surprised by his appearance, actually. Perpetually racked by a coughing fit, the man looked like a ghost. He’d wasted away and was nearly white he was so pale. It was a wonder he’d left his house. She shuddered. Being married to him would not be pleasant…physically. He was most certainly the oldest and the sickest of her potential husbands. And if she intended to become the Duchess of Stanford, she didn’t have much time. The duke might not live out the season, let alone the year.

She slipped under the cool linens that covered her guest bed. Was Thaddeus here? Oh, she hoped so. This was the perfect opportunity to bring all of her plans together.

* * *

Thad jumped down from the carriage and greeted his hostess Lady Lexington with a wide smile.

“Mr. Hammond,” Lady Lexington said, holding her arms out to him. “You rogue. I must admit, when Thomas told me you were coming, you might have knocked me over with a feather. Why, you haven’t been out to the house in years.”

“My lady, it’s been far too long.” Thad bowed over her proffered hand. He’d always liked Lady Lexington, part of the reason he’d agreed to come. He’d been friendly with her son Thomas for years and the Lexingtons were good sorts. Not the same judgmental types the
ton
was mostly full of.

“Thomas and the other gentlemen are in the study, drinking and playing billiards, I’ve little doubt. Do go in and let them know you’ve arrived.”

“I intend to do so with all due haste,” Thad replied.

“And do say hello to Mary,” Lady Lexington added. “She’s been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

Thad inclined his head. Mary was the Lexingtons’ only daughter and her mother had been not so subtly attempting to pair him with her for many years now.

A pair of footmen saw to his trunk while Thad took his leave of Lady Lexington and made his way to the front door. He strolled into the foyer and turned right, heading toward Lord Lexington’s study.

A hacking cough caught his attention and Thad stopped. The Duke of Stanford turned the
corner from the opposite direction just then, walking feebly and resting heavily upon a cane. Thad bowed to the old gentleman. “Your Grace.”

The duke looked up from his coughing fit, his back bowed. His gaze narrowed on Thad. His old rheumy eyes alighted with recognition. “You’re Montclare’s boy, aren’t you?”

Thad straightened. “His grandson, yes.”

Another cough. “That’s right. That’s right. Your father’s Viscount Hillway.”

“Indeed.” Another short bow.

The duke stomped his cane on the marble floor. “If I had a grandson like you, I daresay I’d be just as ashamed as Montclare is.”

Thad clenched his jaw. The old man might be on the threshold of death, but apparently he still had a viper’s tongue. Thad straightened to his full height and looked down at the ailing duke. “Do I remember correctly or do you have no heirs, Your Grace? So you cannot say for sure what you would do with a grandson such as myself.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed even further until they looked like tiny black beads in his craggy face. “Impertinent too, I see.”

“Good day, Your Grace.” Thaddeus bowed again and stalked away at a fast clip down the corridor.

How dare that old codger make such a remark? It was true. Thad hadn’t spoken to his grandfather in years. And his father had been dead five years now, thrown from his horse in a riding accident. His father hadn’t lived to see Thad’s disgrace. Thank God. But his grandfather
had. And he hadn’t been a bit pleased.

The Duke of Stanford looked as if he were ninety instead of his true age, closer to midseventies. But he was in no condition to take a wife, let alone bed one. Thad could only imagine the horrors of Amelia’s wedding night if she were to actually marry the man. Thad shuddered. What did Amelia think she was doing, considering a suit from Stanford? Thad would have to talk some sense into her. In more ways than one.