Danice Allen (22 page)

“Don’t think about it. Just make your decision and dive right in, m’dear,” John advised.

“But you once advised me not to be too impulsive, sir,” she reminded him.

“So I did,” he began with mock seriousness, but then the expression in his eyes became sincerely sober. “But what if I promise to be the gentleman, no matter how giddy and impulsive you become? If you’re worried that I’ll compromise you, m’dear, I’ll pledge my honor that that won’t happen.”

Amanda had very mixed feelings about John pledging his honor. Part of the charm of forgetting who she was was the excitement and danger naturally attached to such a daring idea.

“Very well,” Amanda suddenly agreed with a happy smile. “For tonight I’m not myself.”

“Bravo!” John lauded her with a friendly wink as he uncovered the first of the dishes. “Now, how shall you begin this experiment, Miss Darlington? I say … do you like peas?”

“No, I don’t,” Amanda declared roundly. “I’ve
never
liked peas, but I’ve always eaten them because Mr. Grenville, our apothecary, says they’re very good for me. Miss Amanda Jane Darlington is always very attentive to her doctor’s instructions, but since I’ve quite forgotten I
am
Miss Amanda Jane Darlington, or what that lady usually does when faced with a bowl of those green mushy things, I refuse to eat a single pea!”

“Very wise. Very wise, indeed,” said John. He leaned forward, his face alight with mischief. “This is a very promising beginning. I like peas, you know, but I don’t like them half as well as I like custard with caramel sauce. And I’ve asked Mr. Tebbs to prepare a large dish of the stuff.” He gave her a significant look.

Amanda caught on and very obligingly helped John along to his desired end. “But aren’t you sometimes a little too full at the end of a meal to enjoy your custard with caramel sauce?”

“Yes, sometimes I am,” John admitted with an exaggerated sigh.

“Then perhaps you should have it as your first course!” Amanda said with the air of one having just conceived a brilliant idea.

“You’re not suggesting that I eat my dessert
first
, are you?” said John in a horrified voice.

Amanda shrugged. “I wouldn’t usually make such a shocking suggestion, but since I’m not myself tonight, I highly recommend that you eat your fill of custard before you even consider taking the merest nibble of a pea.”

John immediately summoned the landlord by ringing a bell placed handily at his elbow and informed him when he appeared that dinner was to be served in reverse. Mr. Tebbs was initially surprised and perplexed, but John assured him that they’d just taken a notion to do things backward for once, and would he be a Trojan and put up with their nonsense for the evening?

Mr. Tebbs was an amiable man and not unfamiliar with the sometimes strange fetishes of the aristocracy. Lord and Lady Thornfield, though friendly and not too toplofty, were obviously of the aristocracy and, therefore, entitled to fetishes. He shrugged and agreed to the strange request without further ado.

As Amanda and John luxuriated in the creamy sweetness of custard with caramel sauce, Amanda leaned across the table and said, “You know you’re probably going to have a devilish case of indigestion on the morrow.”

John rolled the custard around on his tongue, his eyes closed in dreamy pleasure, before answering. “You forget, m’dear. We agreed that we would behave as though there
is
no tomorrow. If tomorrow doesn’t exist, I have nothing to fear from a sour stomach.”

“You’re so right,” she said with a decided nod.

John grinned and Amanda giggled, truly amazed to find herself involved in such a silly game. But for all its silliness, the game was just what she needed at the moment. She wanted to forget about tomorrow, not just for the sake of her stomach but because tomorrow the authorities would arrive and take John down to the office to question him, then employ bureaucratic interference in helping him regain his identity. He’d be furious, of course, but it was for his own good. And
her
own good, too.

Amanda thrust away these intrusive thoughts. By thinking so seriously, she was disobeying the rules of the game. She smiled at John as they next tackled the roast leg of lamb.

“What are you thinking now, m’dear?” John asked her, carving away.

Amanda pinched a crispy piece of meat off the plate and put it in her mouth. “I was wondering, John,” she said, as she licked her fingers in a most unladylike manner, “do you know how to waltz?”

John concentrated, then announced, “I don’t know, but I daresay if we had a go at it, I’d remember enough to get by.”

This was good enough for Amanda, who had never waltzed before in her life and was thinking that dancing with John would be a perfect after-dinner activity … and a blissful experience to store away with her other memories.

They continued the meal with an air of festive abandon, savoring the food and the conversation. It was a strange, lopsided conversation, however, since John’s amnesia limited a great many topics and sources that he ordinarily could have drawn upon for something to say. As a result, Amanda was drawn out to talk about herself. She found herself telling him all about her aunts and their endearing eccentricities and fervid charity work, her large farm at Edenbridge, her love of reading and painting, and even her disastrous season in London.

She was relating a story about a clumsy partner at Almacks who stepped on her demi-train and apologized at least eighteen times before she implored him to stop, and then swung her during a country dance smack into a potted palm.

John laughed till mirthful tears leaked from his eyes. Amanda laughed, too. “At the time, I didn’t think the incident so amusing,” she confessed, gasping and holding her side. “But in retrospect I suppose it does seem rather ridiculous!”

“Time and distance give us perspective,” said John, smiling and wiping his damp cheeks with the back of his hand. “And you do have a knack for telling stories, Miss Darlington. I find it hard to believe that you weren’t an instant success in London.”

“I told you I was reserved and shy,” she reminded him.

He waggled a brow. “But you’re not shy with me.”

She poked out her chin in a charming pose of rebellion and said, “And I’ve resolved never to be shy again!”

“I gather your parents were reserved?”

Jack had noticed that when Amanda told about herself, her home, and her family, she omitted any comments about her parents. Resentment toward them for denying her the right to keep her illegitimate child could account for this, of course, but he found himself curious to know more about Amanda’s upbringing. He wished, too, that she’d confide in him about the real reason for going to Thorney Island. It would make it a lot easier to include himself in the final journey and reunion if Amanda trusted him.

“My parents would never eat dessert first,” said Amanda, absently poking at the cold potatoes on her plate, “even if their lives depended on it.” She looked up at Jack with a wan smile. “And they always ate their peas … every single one.” She sighed. “That about sums them up.”

“In other words, they were no fun and have no business being discussed on such a jolly occasion,” Jack said, sorry he’d allowed his curiosity to put a damper on Amanda’s happy mood and eager to get things back to a proper footing. He stood up and bowed gallantly. “Did I hear you mention something about waltzing, Miss Darlington?”

To Jack’s delight, Amanda’s face immediately lit up. “Yes,” she said eagerly, clasping her hands together like an excited child. “But there’s no music, John. Do you think it would be utterly ridiculous of us to dance without music?”

“I have a vague recollection of the ability to carry a tune, Miss Darlington,” he informed her gravely as he extended his hand for hers. “I’ll hum.”

Amanda laughed, took Jack’s proffered hand, and stood up.

“Maybe you should take off your shawl,” he suggested. “It is quite lovely, but waltzing is an energetic activity and might make you feel rather warm.”

Amanda readily complied with this suggestion, folding the shawl over the back of her chair. Jack considered telling her to undo a couple more of the buttons that marched up her throat, but decided he’d be pressing his luck.

The parlor was small, so Jack pushed the dining table and other pieces of light furniture against the walls to make room for dancing. The resulting racket drew the attention of Mr. Tebbs, who entered the room, blinked once or twice in surprise, shrugged, then obligingly cleared the table of the dirty dishes before bowing himself out with a smile and the assurance that he’d “leave you two newlyweds alone.”

Jack pretended not to notice Amanda’s resulting blush but moved to the center of the room, held out his arms in a wide arc, and said with a commanding air and a huge smile, “Come here, Lady Thornfield, and dance with your husband.”

She hesitated for a second, like a timid child standing at the entrance doors to Astley’s Royal Circus but afraid to go in. He watched her come, her hands pressed against her diaphragm as if she were willing herself to breathe, her eyes alight, her cheeks flushed, and her lips smiling. Even the black dress showed her to advantage tonight, countering her pale porcelain beauty and accentuating the smallness of her waist and the firm shape of her breasts.

He gritted his teeth even as he smiled, telling himself he must remember not to embrace her and kiss her when she got near enough but simply assume the usual position for waltzing—one hand at her waist and the other lightly holding her hand aloft—and behave as he promised he would … like a gentleman.

As she walked into John’s outstretched arms, Amanda felt as though she were entering the pearly gates of heaven. He chastely curved his long fingers around her waist, took her other hand in his, and extended it in the usual position for the waltz, but if he’d been bolder, if he’d taken liberties, she’d have been helplessly in his power. Thank goodness he had pledged his honor.

“Just follow my lead, Miss Darlington,” said John in what Amanda thought was a strangely husky voice. Then he began to hum, and they began to move.

He had a wonderful, deep melodic voice. Its resonance thrummed in Amanda’s blood, stirring it up. She glanced shyly up and saw the strong curve of his jaw. If she stood on tiptoe, she could kiss him there, if she dared….

“Who composed this tune, I wonder?” she asked, seeking safety in conversation. His light hand at her waist seemed to burn right through her garments to set her skin on fire.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m sure it’s something I’ve danced to.”

“I’m sure it is,” she agreed, feeling jealous of all the other women he’d held in his arms like this … and in other ways, too.

“I suppose your parents didn’t allow you to waltz?” said John.

“The
Lady’s Magazine
had an article in it cautioning all young women to beware the dangers of waltzing. It was their scholarly opinion that human nature is so depraved that even men of great purity cannot be trusted in such close proximity to the female sex. My mother agreed with their opinion.”

John leaned back to look down at her. “Your mother was wrong. Here we are, dancing quite closely together, and I’m behaving very properly. Wouldn’t you say so, Miss Darlington?”

Amanda had no trouble recognizing that John’s smile was strained. Was he as attracted to her as she was to him? Did he want to kiss her as much as she wanted him to?

“Yes,” she assured him in a rather strangled voice. “You are behaving
very
properly.” Then she snuggled her head against his chest, and his arms tightened around her.

Amanda could feel and hear John’s heart; it was beating as hard and fast as hers. They glided slowly, sinuously about the room. John’s hum became more and more faint till it finally ceased altogether. Then by degrees the dancing stopped, too, so that they were simply standing in the center of the room, holding each other, swaying ever so slightly to some imagined tune.

The only sound in the room was the soft patter of rain against the window glass and the snap and crackle of the fire. Dazed, warmed, aroused, exhilarated, Amanda looked up and John looked down. Their lips were inches apart.

In that moment, Amanda made a decision. She wanted to take the game as far as it could possibly go. She wanted to believe with all her heart that tomorrow wouldn’t come, or if it did, that it wouldn’t matter anyway. She’d have memories, lovely memories of tonight to keep her warm through the rest of her life.

She wanted John to make love to her.

Chapter 12

“I said I’d never invite you to kiss me again, but …”

Amanda’s sweet breath fanned over Jack’s mouth, making his lips tingle and pulse with anticipation. “I want to kiss you, Amanda, more than you’ll ever know,” he rasped. “But I pledged my honor.”

“I release you of that pledge.”

He groaned. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“What makes you think that? I haven’t been drinking wine or anything stronger than apple cider and milk.” She smiled and her lips trembled. “At least I can vouch for
my
clear-headedness.”

“Well, I can’t vouch for mine,” Jack said roughly. “You’re driving me crazy. I can’t think straight! I promised not to compromise you, and you’re tempting me beyond endurance, Amanda. I can’t—” He broke off. He was about to say he couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as much as he wanted her, but it would be a mistake to allude to memories. He didn’t want to excite her suspicions.

“You can’t what?”

“If I kiss you, I can’t promise that I’ll be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “I want you to make love to me.”

Jack’s knees were weak with desire. He wanted to lower her to the floor then and there and take her. He shook his head, straightened his spine … and his resolve. “You don’t even know me. You don’t know anything about me.”

Amanda’s hands on his back began to move in a luxurious caress. “I know everything I need to know about you. You’re tender and kind and funny. I love the way you touch me, and I love touching you.”