An Improper Lady (The Powder and Patch Collection) (5 page)

Chapter Seven

“
We missed you at dinner, Sir Peregrine,” she told him, extending her hand for his kiss.

“
Good!” he said, quizzing her with his eyes. When she raised her brows in an attempt at hauteur, he added, “I don’t give a damn for anyone else’s feelings, but I’d be devilish put out if
you
hadn’t missed me!”

They stood slightly apart from the party, close to the fireplace and watched the young dancers who romped so vigorously that their faces were flushed and shining.

Bella took a deep breath. “Why did you stop when you did?” she asked, and he turned puzzled eyes upon her. “At Vauxhall, you were about to take me,” she stated bluntly, and his eyes darkened instantly with remembered lust. “But you stopped,
before
the delightful Miss Chorley bounced in on us.”

“
Truth be told, I realised something in that instant,” he grinned ruefully. “Which was surprising considering I was not exactly thinking with my
brain
at the time!”

Bella waited, watching his profile as he reached for the poker and stirred the burning logs. With a sigh, he looked up from his task. “I love you,” he stated simply.

“Pardon?” Bella was so surprised she closed her eyes.
She could not have heard him correctly!

Sir Peregrine gave a short laugh. “I love you,” he repeated. Bella opened her eyes and saw that he was in earnest. “And, loving you, I was not prepared to degrade you with a quick knee-trembler in a public place! Even if it was all
your
idea!”

“
You look shocked,” he said after a few minutes.

“
I
am
shocked,” she agreed. “And honoured…”

He held up a hand to forestall her and an expression of something close to pain twisted his features. “Don’t, I beg you, let me down gently with the speech about how you are flattered but cannot return my regard. I am well aware that this happens to you all the time. ”

“It doesn’t,” Bella stated bluntly. “I am the woman men want to bed,
not
the one they fall in love with!”

“
I don’t do things by halves,” his expression was self-mocking. “With me you are both of those things.”

An over-enthusiastic reveller danced up to them holding aloft a sprig of mistletoe and eying Bella with interest. He ground to an abrupt halt when he saw the frosty look on Sir Peregrine’s face and, with a mumbled apology, drifted away.

“Can we not continue this conversation elsewhere, somewhere less public?” Bella pleaded, placing a hand on Sir Peregrine’s arm. The coquettish smile - the one about which smitten suitors wrote sonnets - peeped out. “My bedchamber, perhaps?”

He groaned, “You still do not see what I mean, do you? I want you so much it is driving me to the brink of insanity. ”

“But why? When you
must
know you can have me!” she interrupted, her words throbbing with the intensity of her own emotions, “I could not state it – or show it - any more clearly than I have done already. I am yours, whenever, wherever!”

His gaze devoured her. “God, do you have any idea how tempting you are?” He laughed. “What am I saying? Of course you do! But I am
not
insane, not yet, anyway. Making love to you would assuage my desire for you – temporarily! - but it won’t cure me of loving you!”

He dashed off the contents of his wineglass, and stared morosely into the fire once more.

“So, tell me, what
do
I have to do to get you into bed?” Bella purred, running a hand down his arm, and delighting in the feel of hitherto unsuspected muscle beneath her fingertips.

“
I can think of only one thing,” he replied seriously, and Bella gave a little trill of pleasure at the prospect of his capitulation. It was finally going to happen!

His leaned in close so that his breath touched her ear. “Marry me,” he whispered.

With a little start of surprise, Bella realised he was serious. Without waiting for a response, he walked away.

***

Sir Peregrine, dressed in impeccable but serviceable clothing, was just leaving the house as Bella descended the wide staircase. None of the other guests had yet left their bedchambers and the house was quiet. Sir Peregrine turned back as she said his name, adding, with a worried frown creasing her brow, “You are not leaving?”

“
No, I am merely in need of a walk. The festivities have left me decidedly sluggish!” He paused. “Join me? Although Jack warns me that snow is forecast, so I suggest you wrap up warmly.”

Bella hurried away to change her shoes and collect her cloak. They trudged in companionable silence along a rutted path and up a steep incline. When they reached the top, the view was of St. Anton Court slumbering in the valley below, surrounded by its moat and formal gardens. Jack’s land extended for miles in every direction, dotted here and there with rows of half-timbered cottages. The air was crisp and cold and their breath left streamers of condensation in its wake.

“Who would have thought my dashing friend, Jack, would take so well to the life of the country squire?” Sir Peregrine wondered. He cast a sideways glance at Bella. “Shall you object if, once we are married, I do not follow his example? I am a confirmed city dweller, I fear. Prolonged exposure to haystacks makes me nauseous.”

“
Do not make a joke of this, Sir Peregrine,” Bella said quietly. “You know full well I cannot marry you.”

“
I thought as much,” he said with a sigh. “I must thank you, I suppose, for your honesty.”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion, and he continued, “There can be only one reason for you to refuse me. You do not love me.”

Bella was silent for a long, long time. “You know that is not true,” she said at last.

He waited, watching the play of emotions across her face. “Why must it be marriage?” she asked, turning her head to look up at him, genuine puzzlement clouding her wide, dark eyes. “We can be lovers. If you take me as your mistress, I swear I will be faithful, and when you
do
marry another, I will make you no scenes. ”

“
Stop it!” he caught her by the shoulders and gave a slight shake. “Don’t talk about yourself that way! Do you imagine that is what I want? To sneak into your bed under cover of darkness? To hide my feelings for you away, as if I am ashamed? I want to marry you with as much pomp and ceremony as I can muster, to announce my love for you to the world.”

“
I could almost wish you
had
cut the soldier out and taken Primrose,” she said, changing the subject abruptly, with a wry smile.

“
I did not want Primrose,” he reminded her.

“
But do you not see?
She
is the sort of woman you should be proposing to! A girl with no past, no reputation. Sweet, virginal…”

“
Are you trying to tell me you are not a virgin?” he asked, his lips twitching. “Because, although your confession shocks me to the core, I did already have a sneaking suspicion.”

“
You do not know the life I have led. Or who I really am.” Her voice was low.

“
Tell me,” he invited.

“
I cannot.” She could not bear to see the tender look in his eyes replaced by one of contempt.

“
Would it help if I told you it matters not one jot? That there is nothing you can tell me that will stop me loving you?” His hands remained on her shoulders and he slid them down her upper arms, pulling her towards him. “It may surprise you to know that I have not had an entirely spotless past myself.”

Bella pulled away, breaking the spell. “There can be no comparison!” She started to walk back the way they had come. Sir Peregrine fell into step beside her.

“I was not aware we were engaged in some sort of competition,” he said. “But if you wish to exchange stories of our most scandalous exploits, I am happy to begin. It was in Venice during my Grand Tour. I was in a gondola with two courtesans…”

Bella gave a gurgle of laughter, “Be serious!” she told him sternly. “Besides, I have several years on you, you know. Next to me, you are a mere child!”

“How old are you?” he demanded and, as her lips parted in protest, he continued sternly. “And don’t tell me no lady would reveal such a thing because, may I remind you, the purpose of your discourse thus far has to been to convince me that you are most decidedly
not
a lady!”

She tried to be angry, but failed. “I am three and thirty,” she told him with a slight shrug.

“And I am eight and twenty, which makes you precisely five years my senior. A blink of the eye! So,” he turned to assist her over a furrow in the grass, “I forbid you forthwith to ever again refer to me as a
child
!”

“
What were you doing when you were twelve?” she asked, pretending not to notice that he had kept hold of her hand.

He stopped and turned to face her, saying, with a slightly quizzical expression. “Not attending to my lessons, fishing, riding, scrumping apples from the orchard… I believe that may have been the year I set fire to my father’s study. Why do you ask?”

“Because, while you were doing those things,
I
was making love to a highwayman,” she replied bluntly.

He scanned her face closely, but, instead of the disgust she had anticipated, the gleam in his eye was one of pure mischief as he said, “I never thought to find myself envying a gentleman of the road!”

Bella laughed, but shook her head. “Does that not make you see how unsuited I am to be your wife?”

“
No,” Sir Peregrine replied, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and preparing to continue their walk.

“
Unless,” he glanced down at her again, “You are trying to tell me that you will continue to welcome criminals into your bed
after
we are wed?”

Bella’s musical laugh rang out. “You are being nonsensical!” she scolded.

“Not at all! I thought it wise to check,” he protested. “I think it is important to have no secrets from the person one intends to marry.”

They walked on in silence for several minutes. “What happened to the highwayman?” Sir Peregrine’s voice was gentle.

Bella’s pearly teeth gripped her lower lip briefly. She had not talked of Flintlock Jim in sixteen years. Could she do so now?

“
He was killed by the king’s men.” Her voice was so low that he had to bend his head to hear. “It was an ambush. He knew that, if they captured me,
my
fate would be worse than death, so he made sure I could get away. Instead of running, he stayed to fight them while I,” Her breath caught in her throat. “I hid in a barn, but I saw it all. I heard their laughter. They left him there, in a pool of his own blood. And when they had gone, I went to him and held him while he died.” Her voice cracked a little, and she blinked away the tears which stung her eyes. “I’m sorry. I loved him, you see.”

Sir Peregrine, with infinite tenderness, drew her into his arms, holding her close and warming her with his body. And Bella wept - for the first time - for the brave, laughing man who had chosen the wrong side of the law, and for the girl whose dreams had been destroyed as she watched him die in agony.

Through her tears, the whole story of her past spilled out. With each watery confession, Sir Peregrine’s embrace tightened. Gradually, the shivering which beset her stilled, but Bella stayed in his comforting hug, burrowing her face into the strong sinews of his shoulder and inhaling the crisp scent of the cologne he always wore.

“
We should get back,” Sir Peregrine said at last, scanning the colourless sky. “It looks like the snow is at last on its way.”

Chapter Eight

By late afternoon, the house party had dwindled quite considerably. Most guests decided to set off for home when the first flakes began to drift from an ashen sky. The alternative was to risk being stranded at St. Anton Court. The Northumbrian valley in which Jack’s home nestled was notoriously inaccessible for up to two months each year when the snow fell.

“Much as I love my dear older brother,” Jack’s sister, Abigail, stated matter-of-factly, patting his cheek as he handed her into her carriage, “I am likely to do you – or perhaps myself - a mischief if I am obliged to be cooped in our childhood home for longer than is absolutely necessary!”

Rosie heaved a secret sigh of relief as she waved farewell. The ordeal of meeting Jack’s family was over and, although it had not been as bad as she had feared, she felt as though she had been holding her breath for the last three days. She turned to find Jack’s thoughtful gaze upon her and her sunny smile, which had been missing recently, lit her face.

Holding out her hands, she said, “I have not yet given you my present, my lord!” When he caught hold of her hands and drew her towards him, raising his eyebrows suggestively, she added, in a warning tone, “Do not, I beg you, get
too
excited! It may not be quite what you are expecting.”

***

Bella took even greater care – if such a thing was possible – over her toilette that evening. Her maid, well used to her ladyship’s high standards, was astonished to see her almost nervously examining her appearance in the mirror.

“
It that a wrinkle, Lizzie?” Bella asked, pointing to an imaginary line at the corner of her mouth.

“
No, milady,” Lizzie replied truthfully, twisting Bella’s glossy ringlets expertly round her fingers.

Bella’s gown was of deep crimson velvet. The style was
à la française,
with an outer robe worn over panniers and held open over an underskirt decorated with appliqué flowers and layered gauze flounces. The bodice was cut just low enough to give an enticing glimpse of the most famous cleavage in London, and the tightly cinched stomacher emphasised the narrowness of her waist. Every detail had been designed to show off the perfection of her figure.
So why do I feel so nervous about how I look?

She had replayed her earlier conversation with Sir Peregrine so many times that, if asked, she could have recited it word for word. Oddly, it didn’t hurt any more to think of Flintlock Jim. The hole in her heart – the one that had been made when he died - was healed at last.

Now all I have to do is convince that stubborn, infuriating,
darling
man that he does not want to marry me!

***

Both Bella and Sir Peregrine had decided that the journey back to London – which would take several days longer in the snowy conditions – could reasonably be put off. They joined their hosts, and Harry, for a relaxed dinner.

Harry was delighted at the news that he was to be an uncle, and Jack’s bemused, but happy, expression spoke volumes about the prospective father’s feelings.

Bella, feeling oddly and uncharacteristically shy, found it difficult to meet Sir Peregrine’s eye while they ate. She sensed he was not only aware of her plight, he was also mildly amused by it.

Abandoning formality altogether, Rosie and Bella did not withdraw when the port appeared and, instead, the whole party withdrew to the billiards room. A twelve foot oak table dominated the room and Jack called a footman to bring another branch of candles to ensure it was well lit.

Harry set up the ivory and red balls and took up a cue, issuing a laughing challenge. “Come now, Jack, this is your chance to show me that these odd-looking, narrow sticks of yours require more skill than a good, solid mace!”

“
Perry is the one you should be throwing down that gauntlet to! He is a veritable demon at all forms of billiards,” Jack told him. “Carom, straight line, even this new game. I’ve yet to see him beaten.”

Sir Peregrine, bowing gracefully in response to the hopeful look in Harry’s eyes, shrugged out of his coat, shook out his ruffles and removed the rings which adorned his fingers. Rolling up the sleeves of his fine, linen shirt, he bent low over the table, lining up a shot before striking one of the cue balls with expert precision.

“’Tis indeed a fine table, Jack,” he commented. “Runs truer than many I’ve played on. Did you say it had a parquetry bed?”

Jack nodded and the ensuing conversation made Bella roll expressive eyes at Rosie. “Re-bedded? Kissed balls? Laying the nap?” she whispered. “It sounds like one of those leaflets distributed at the theatre, with a list of the services offered by the ladies of the chorus!” Rosie, fully restored to her former spirits, giggled naughtily.

The table was marked out in balk lines, which increased the difficulty but made the game less tedious for spectators. In the past, a skilled player could score an endless number of points by barely moving the ball. The rules of this new, balk line game were simple. One point was scored each time a player's cue ball made contact with both object balls on a single stroke. A win was achieved by reaching an agreed number of points.

Bella made idle conversation with Rosie, while surreptitiously watching the game.
Be honest with yourself, Bella! ’Tis one of the players - not the game - that is of such interest to you!

It was most disconcerting, she decided, the way Sir Peregrine’s biceps bulged against the fine material of his shirt. The temptation to slide her hands under the snow white linen and caress the rippling muscles of his back was overwhelming. And, when he leaned across the table to take a particularly difficult shot so that the satin of his breeches moulded itself to the outline of his buttocks… Bella swallowed the sudden constriction in her throat and turned, reluctantly, back to Rosie.

“How do you make a billiard player laugh?” Harry asked, and, ignoring Jack’s frowning head-jerk in the direction of his sister, continued, “Tickle his…” he grinned wickedly, “… tummy!” Chortling at his own wit, he ducked to avoid Jack’s attempt to cuff him lightly across the back of the head.

Although Sir Peregrine stood in no danger of losing to Harry, he took the time to patiently demonstrate a number of shots, to give the lad tips on his stance and the best way to hold a cue. It was some considerable time later that Harry drifted off to bed to dream, as always, of a place in a cavalry regiment. Tonight he would also fantasise about the day when he would trounce his new mentor at the billiard table.

Rosie had been smothering her yawns for some time, a circumstance for which she was full of apologies. “Go to bed, child!” Bella chided her. Jack, overhearing the remark, hurried to his wife’s side. When their hosts had departed, Bella went to join Sir Peregrine, who was returning the cues to their rack and stacking the ivory balls into a storage box.

“
Will you teach me to play?” Bella asked him, with her best flirtatious smile.

He studied her flawless face with an unreadable expression. “No,” he replied with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. She bit her lip, and his expression thawed slightly. “I will challenge you instead to a match. Best of three frames.”

“’Twill be a somewhat one-sided contest,” she pointed out.

“
We will have a side wager to make it interesting,” he leaned against the table, folding his arms across his chest and smiling down at her. They were close enough to touch, and Bella fought down the impulse to reach out and run her fingertips along his cheek.

“
Come, let us end this impasse between us, once and for all,” Sir Peregrine suggested. “If I win, you will spend the night with me.”

Bella laughed. “We can dispense with the game and secure that outcome right now. Indeed, I will happily submit to a forfeit which means I must spend
every
night with you.” she reminded him.

Reaching out one long finger, Sir Peregrine pressed it against her lips, “But, if
you
win, you agree to marry me!” Bella seemed inclined to protest and he leaned in close. “Take it or leave it, my beauty,” he murmured.

“
Very well, sir,” Bella dipped a mock curtsey. “You have yourself a wager!”
After all I cannot possibly beat him!

“
Now?” she asked, reaching for a cue.

Sir Peregrine shook his head. “You have pointed out that we are somewhat unevenly matched.” A wicked smile gleamed. “In
this
game, at least! I will give you one day to practice, then tomorrow night’s outcome will decide both our fates, my lady!”

***

“It seems to me, Bella, as an impartial observer, you understand,” Jack remarked, holding the coffee pot up in a silent invitation. Bella nodded and he poured the steaming liquid into her cup. “That you stand to gain a great deal more if you emerge from this challenge as the victor.”

They were alone at the breakfast table but, since Sir Peregrine had risen early and gone out riding, Jack already knew all about the wager. He studied Bella’s expression which, although outwardly serene, was somewhat distant. “I would be happy to offer you some coaching in the game, although I should warn you that Perry is accounted something of an expert.”

“Oh, I know,” she replied coolly. “I cannot win and, to be perfectly honest, I have no intention of attempting to do so.”

“
So you do
not
wish to marry Perry? I had thought…” Jack was surprised at the wistful look which briefly touched Bella’s perfect features.

“
Come now, Jack!” she declared briskly, “You know what my life has been! Sir Peregrine is your friend. Would you have me dupe him into a marriage which he would forever regret? One which would, in all likelihood, result in his ruin?”

“
You are unfair to him and yourself! He is no fool, and I know you have been honest with him, brutally so! And I also know you would
not
make him unhappy.”

A soft, secret smile played about her lips before she answered. “I would attempt not to do so, of course!” She shook herself out of the pleasant daydream the words evoked. “But it cannot – it must not! - be thought of! I have told him he must marry a pretty little girl with no past and excellent breeding. A proper lady, in other words!” She smiled. “And I, a decidedly
improper
lady, will dance at his wedding and wish him happy. Besides, I have, on several occasions, offered to become his mistress, and he has categorically refused me! Following hard on the heels of
your
rejection of me, Jack, I might almost descend into a decline!” It was reminder of the night she had propositioned him, and, instead of succumbing, he had confided his feelings for Rosie to her.

“
The circumstances are hardly the same!” Jack reminded her, amused at her candour. “I was in love with someone else, whereas Perry, I am quite convinced, loves
you
to the point of madness!”

“
Well, I will not allow him to be mad,” Bella declared prosaically. “So I will lose this foolish wager and we may all be easy!” Her fascinating smile dawned. “Come now, Jack, do you not agree that I will make him a vastly entertaining mistress? Sir Peregrine will soon, I am sure, come to appreciate his good fortune
and
his narrow escape!”