Pride and Fire (10 page)

Chapter 9

After they shared a light meal in the supper room, Paul escorted Michelle into the ballroom. Her heart pounded as he led her out onto the floor for a waltz, holding her closer than was proper. Any thoughts of the weasel Burns and his insinuations were far from her mind as she gave herself up to the pleasure of Paul’s skillful arms.

He stared down at her as he twirled her about the room, his beautiful blue eyes glittering. “Michelle, this gown…”

She quirked a half-smile up at him, thrilled to see the warmth in his eyes. It mirrored the heat blossoming over her skin at every point of contact. “Does it please you, Lord Leed?”

He grinned wickedly at her and placed his cheek against hers. “It would please me to take it off of you.”

Michelle gasped, her cheeks flaming hot. Paul simply chuckled at her reaction, a husky sound that caused the heat on her skin to spread.

When the number ended, when he brought her to a row of chairs at the back of the ballroom, they found themselves surrounded once more by Paul’s friends. The conversation soon turned to politics and government. Michelle sat quietly as the gentlemen debated over the effectiveness of the Royal Navy, some of them growing quite heated in their words.

“It galls me to see how thieves and cutthroats roam our waters,” one of them stated.

“True,” another intoned. “The Navy is a disgrace.”

“‘Disgrace’ is a strong word, Peters,” Paul put in.

“What else would you call it, Leed?” Roberts asked. “What with so few battleships in the fleet.”

“Perhaps, gentlemen,” Michelle cut in, “if Parliament didn’t insist on cutting funds to the Navy, the battleships would be better able to adequately protect our shores.”

Silence fell on their corner of the room. Michelle looked up then, surprised to find the gentlemen regarding her with what could only be described as shock.
Lord, me and my big mouth.

She stiffened and looked to Paul, afraid to see censure on his handsome face. A smile teased the corner of his mouth. Giving him a smile to mask her nervousness, she returned her gaze to her lap.

After a long minute, talk resumed. Michelle was mortified. She never should have opened her mouth. What would her mother say? Paul must think her a silly chit. She’d seen the amusement in his eyes. Surely he was laughing at her.

She was more than relieved when the party drew to a close. When they went outside, she stood stiffly beside him as he called for his carriage. It arrived and he gave her his assistance and followed her inside, moving to sit beside her. She pulled her skirts aside and squeezed herself into one corner, praying he wouldn’t bring up the subject of the Navy or any other political topic she surely had no business discussing.

He arched a brow at her, settling himself closely beside her nonetheless. “Is something troubling you?”

Michelle shook her head, unable to look at him.

He grasped her chin and tilted her head up. “Michelle, love, what is it?”

Her composure crumpled as she realized she had no choice but to face the matter head on. “Paul, I’m so sorry I interrupted your discussion.”

Paul blinked in surprise. Suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed.

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “Well, I don’t see what’s so funny.”

He shook his head at her. “You don’t understand.”

She knit her brow, her hands in fists in her lap. “So simply because I’m a woman I don’t understand such matters?”

Paul took her hand in his. “No, love. You misunderstand
me
. I enjoyed your ‘interruption’ as you called it.”

She pulled her hands out of his grasp. “I’m glad you find me so amusing.”

Paul grasped her hands once more. “I find you refreshing, Michelle. Not amusing.”

“Truly?” She looked at him closely. “You don’t prefer I keep my pert opinions to myself?”

“I do not.” He kissed her hands. “Don’t think you have to keep your opinions from me.”

“But what of voicing my opinions in front of your friends?”

Paul smiled. “Let them envy me. I’m getting a bride who is both beautiful and intelligent.”

Michelle returned his smile and hugged him tightly. She settled close to him and sighed. “You are the most gallant of men.”

He held her close, running his hands absently over her skin. His caresses soon became bolder. He grabbed her arms and held her away from him, causing her to look up at him in puzzlement.

“Paul, what—?”

His eyes roamed over her. “You are incredible in this daring gown.”

She fell silent and licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth.

He bent his head to hers. “Michelle,” he whispered, his mouth a breath away from hers.

His lips claimed hers, rubbing gently, but obviously it soon wasn’t enough for him. He grasped her chin and urged her mouth open. She obliged him, the gentle contact not enough for her either. Her tongue stroked his, fueling a passion she sensed he mirrored. He groaned and cupped her face with his hands, taking control. His mouth left hers to trail along the smooth skin of her throat. She shifted, coming to rest in his lap. Lord, she couldn’t get close enough to him.

His hands roamed over her as he placed hot kisses on her skin, rekindling the heat they’d shared briefly on the dance floor. His breath came fast, the sound sending her pulse racing.

She grabbed at his shoulders, arching toward him. “Paul, please…”

He tugged on her bodice as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as his mouth neared her nipple.

Suddenly, the carriage rocked to a stop. Paul lifted his head, taking a few moments to get his bearings, and she whimpered softly. “Don’t stop.”

He brought his face up to hers and kissed her gently. She opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion.

“You’re home, love,” he whispered.

“Home?” she whispered back.

“We’re at your home, Michelle.”

She blinked a few times before the truth struck her. “Oh!”

Her arms were still wrapped tightly around him, her bared breasts pressed against his fine jacket. He laughed softly and disentangled himself from her. She eased herself off of his lap and adjusted her bodice.

He saw her to the door and kissed her hand. “Good night, Michelle.”

“Good night.”

Michelle heard the carriage drive off as she locked the front door. The memory of her wanton behavior in Paul’s carriage caused a faint blush to heat her cheeks. No matter. She climbed the stairs to her chamber. They were to be married, and passion between them was to be expected, wasn’t it? He was certainly a passionate man. With one touch, he could set her on fire.

She sighed as she entered her chamber. She took off the beautiful dress and placed it aside for Betsy’s careful attention. As she sat at the vanity and removed her jewelry, something that had occurred that evening came back to her. What precisely had Lord Burns meant by his statement about Paul’s finances? The memory of how the thin man had leered at her made her flesh crawl. An “arrangement,” indeed. She was an innocent, but even she knew to what he had been alluding. Should she tell Paul? She supposed he had need to know the man was spreading false stories about him.

After brushing her hair she changed into her nightgown. She’d think about it in the morning. What was more confounding was the weasel’s other comment. Something about a draw on Paul’s time? Was he alluding to a mistress? No. Paul wouldn’t do such a thing.

Putting all thoughts of the weasel Burns out of her mind, she crawled into bed and drifted off to sleep as the image of her betrothed danced among her dreams.

“Up, dear!” her mother called. Michelle rolled to one side and peered through her lashes.

“Mother,” Michelle began groggily, “whatever are you—?”

“We’ve lots to do this morning.” Her mother pushed aside the heavy draperies. “Rise and shine!”

Lord, it was morning. Michelle sat up and rubbed her eyes as she yawned. “We returned home very late last night, Mother.”

“That’s of no consequence,” Lady Helen said. “The dressmaker will be here directly, and you must eat a little something for breakfast before the fitting. It could take hours, I daresay.”

“The dressmaker?” Michelle puzzled aloud. Her mind cleared in that moment. She clasped her hands together and smiled broadly. “My wedding dress! Oh, I nearly forgot.”

Her mother smiled at her indulgently. “Do not fret about it, dear. That’s a mother’s job.”

Michelle nodded. “All right.”

“And don’t dally,” Lady Helen instructed. “I’ll wait for you in the breakfast room.”

Michelle rushed through her morning toilette and joined her mother downstairs. As Michelle ate, Lady Helen went over all that she wished to get done that day.

“There are the invitations to inscribe. I took the liberty of making the guest list,” she said. “The flowers should be ordered today, as well. Perhaps if we venture out as soon as the dressmaker leaves us, we’ll be able to get it all done.”

Michelle simply nodded, overwhelmed.

“And there is the matter of who will give you away at the ceremony,” her mother said.

Michelle put her teacup aside and dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Mother, I’ve given that some thought, and—”

“What about your cousin Reginald?” Lady Helen cut in.

Michelle wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. Not bloody likely. Her cousin wasn’t a favorite of hers, by any means. Reginald Thomas was the only son of her father’s younger brother, the current Earl of Thomasham. He’d tormented her when they were children, and whenever they ran into each other now that they were grown he couldn’t keep his attention on her face. When last she saw him he’d all but undressed her with his eyes. There was no way on earth she’d permit him to participate in her wedding.

“I do not want him here, Mother.”

Lady Helen gasped at her vehemence. “But… he is family!”

“Nevertheless,” Michelle cut in, “I would like to ask Lord Kanewood to perform the duty, if I may.”

Lady Helen wrinkled her brow for a moment, then nodded her agreement.

“The Earl of Kanewood would be a splendid choice, dear,” she allowed. “Write him this morning. But we must send your cousin an invitation to the wedding, Michelle.”

“Fine. At least I won’t have to spend much time in Reggie’s company.”

Lady Helen clicked her tongue but didn’t mention her odious cousin again that morning, leaving Michelle grateful that she wouldn’t have to innumerate the many reasons she couldn’t stand the toad.

After breakfast Michelle penned a note to Lord Kanewood, along with another note. She handed both to the butler just as the dressmaker arrived, and jumped into her very busy day.

By lunchtime Michelle had stood on a stool for what seemed like hours as the dressmaker pinned and pinched and draped fabric over her. She and her mother finally settled on a gorgeous length of ivory silk for the gown.

“I think I’d like a bit of lace,” Michelle mused aloud.

“A bit?” Her mother laughed. “My dear child, you’ll be adrift in the stuff!”

Michelle smiled, catching some of her mother’s enthusiasm. The dressmaker left after that, assuring the ladies the gown would be ready by Saturday.

Lady Helen stood then, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “We must go to the florist before writing out the invitations, dear.”

Michelle nodded, hiding her grin. “Yes, Mother,” she said for what felt like the tenth time that morning.

Her mother reveled in these details, and Michelle wouldn’t want to detract from the woman’s pleasure. Lady Helen left her, humming to herself.

Michelle dressed and joined her mother in the foyer just as the doorbell rang. It was a messenger with a response to one of the notes she’d written earlier. She opened and read it.

“It’s from Lord Kanewood, Mother,” Michelle said. “And he’d be delighted to give me away.”

“Oh, this is wonderful news!” Lady Helen beamed. “You must write him a note of thanks directly, Michelle.”

Michelle penned the note and the ladies went on their errands, soon immersed in the selection of flowers for the reception.

* * * *

Paul rose late that morning and, after a quick meal of ham and eggs, closed himself up in his study. He had much to get done before the week was out. He set to work immediately, poring over the files on his desk. He was surprised to find one file on the topic they had discussed last night.

“The Royal Navy? Hmm.” Smiling, he remembered how eloquently Michelle had stated her views. And how proud he’d been regardless of the other gentlemen’s reactions.

He opened the file and scanned the contents. The gentleman who planned to speak on the matter held the same opinion as his beautiful bride-to-be.

“Surely Michelle wouldn’t mind my using some of her very words.”

As he crafted a persuasive speech for his client, he remembered Burns’s veiled attempts at discredit last night. His fawning over Michelle’s face and form was almost forgivable. She was an incredible beauty and Paul had snatched her off the Marriage Mart in nearly a heartbeat. But alluding to Paul’s speechwriting? That was not forgivable. His clients knew well of Paul’s work, and his speeches were sought after through discreet referrals. But no mention was ever made of the work in company. The peers preferred to take credit for his words on the floor and Paul preferred not to have the necessity for his nearly working in trade to be bandied about the ballroom.

“The weasel had better keep his snout shut,” he muttered.

He leaned back in his chair and reviewed what he’d written, humming as he began his final edits.

Chapter 10

Paul arrived at the Thomas townhouse, Michelle’s note tucked in his pocket. In it she’d politely requested his presence for tea at her mother’s home. He’d completed two more speeches that afternoon and was pleased for the diversion and the unexpected opportunity to see his intended.

When the butler showed him into the parlor, his eyes settled immediately on Michelle. She wore a tea gown of pale pink, the color nearly matching her skin. Her hair was loosely gathered at the back of her head, several red-gold curls floated about her shoulders. He’d never seen such a pretty sight. “Hello, love. Where is your mother?”