Recklessly Yours (41 page)

“I believe in you. I believe what I feel for you is love.”

 

He should not have spoken the words. He should not have done many things these past several days, but most of all, he should not have envisioned what his life would be like if he were free to take Holly as his wife.

If he had entertained any doubts previously, the last hours of working together had proved how perfect a wife she would have made for him. Like Simon and Ivy, who shared a laboratory and together devised new and startling ways of conducting electricity. Who knew what he and Holly could have achieved together, what methods of strengthening equine breeds, or ensuring that England's yearly harvests would feed her people?

Yet as the minutes passed, joy moved farther and farther away, until dejection hung over him, pressing down on his shoulders, becoming heavier with each tick of the clock. For now he knew, wholly, what he must give up.

He stroked his fingertips over the bare curve of her shoulder. Had she fallen asleep? Dear God, how he hated to wake her. How he hated having to wake himself from this perfect dream.

He shifted until he lay beside her. “Holly?”

Her lashes fluttered. She smiled up at him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Yes. It was wonderful.”

“Are you . . . going to be all right?” He didn't mean only that moment. He meant for the rest of her life. “We should not have . . .”

“I don't regret it. I won't.”

“But if—”

Her eyes came fully open, and she pushed up onto her elbows. “I will live with any consequences. My sisters would never abandon me, no matter my disgrace. If nothing else, I do have that assurance.”

The words cut him deeply, for they attested to the kind of love that was lacking in his own family. They also attested to all he would not be able to give her.

“I understand that nothing has changed.” She smiled sadly.

“And you don't hate me?”

“Never.”

That stabbed deepest, caused him the most pain. This was his curse, perhaps Briannon's doing after all: to know love, to want it, to have it not just within reach but between his very hands, yet be forced to push it away. To have to walk away, while knowing he would not be the only one suffering for his mistakes.

If that wasn't a curse, what was?

He forced his shoulders not to sag, his chin not to fall. “At least be angry with me. I can bear your resentment. Right now I don't think I could bear the tenderness of your heart.”

Her expression changed, hardened, the flare of her tempter glinting in the lamplight. “Why not? Because you insist on breaking my heart? Mine and yours together? In the carriage I called you a fool. You never seem to stop proving it. You want anger? You may have it. Not because of what we've just done, but because of what you refuse to do. You refuse to have courage. And you lied to me.”

That last charge came as an affront even as it inflamed his sense of guilt. “I never lied. I never promised you more than I could give.”

“Moments ago you said you believed in me. But you don't. In all likelihood you never will.”

She sat up and turned her back on him then, and began gathering up her clothes in tight-lipped silence. Funny, though, how the simple act of dressing required a truce of sorts. He needed help securing his cuffs; she needed his assistance in rehooking her corset. By the time he laced the bodice of her riding habit and draped the little jacket around her shoulders, they were trading civil words again.

“What will you do now?” she asked as she tried, with limited success, to twist her hair into a tidy knot. No matter her efforts, tendrils fell about her flushed cheeks. She looked warm and sleepy and sated, as fresh as a country milkmaid who'd just tumbled with the stable boy in a pile of hay.

God, he wished his life could be so simple.

He yanked the blanket from the settee and folded it into a small bundle to bring to the laundress. He'd noticed the light streaks of blood on Holly's thighs and wondered if she had, too. Each stain seemed both a pledge made and a promise broken. And evidence of the lie she had accused him of uttering.

“I'm returning to the stables,” he said, picking up his neckcloth from a side table and shoving it into his coat pocket. Outside, the sky was turning gray; the dew clinging to the library windows ran in silver drops down the panes. “I sent orders to clear out all the remaining feed. I need to see that it's properly done. Then I need to initiate an investigation into how this happened.”

“I'll come with you.”

He shook his head. “Get some rest.” When she started to protest that he might need her help again, he held up his hand. “And see to your sisters.”

That convinced her, for she nodded. He walked her to the library door. He turned the key, was about to open it and bid her good morning, when instinct seized him and he pressed his mouth to hers. She did more than simply accept the kiss. After the minutest of hesitations, she parted her lips, closed her eyes, and arched her neck. A purring whimper slid into his mouth, and suddenly, unexpectedly, his hopes soared. This woman cared for him, wanted him. Loved him. Surely they were meant to be together. Surely, together, they could find a way to set their future to rights.

Their lips still meshed, he turned the knob and opened the door. A gasp flew at them from across the threshold.

Colin broke the kiss, and like startled rabbits he and Holly stared back at the shocked faces filling the doorway. Sabrina, the duchess and her brother, and, good God, both of Holly's sisters. Then an outraged cry drew Colin's attention to a figure standing behind the others, to blond curls and a haughtily pointed chin. His stomach dropped.

Lady Penelope Wingate. He had forgotten that she and her parents were staying on at Masterfield Park. His family could be persuaded to discretion, but Penelope and her parents? He darted a sideways glance at Holly. She was blushing furiously and seeming not to have drawn a breath since before he'd kissed her.

He wanted to demand of Penelope, demand of them all, what the bloody hell they were doing up so early. And why, of the many doors in this house, they'd chosen to congregate outside this one. They were all of them dressed for riding, except Penelope, who wore a gown far too elaborate to be called a country morning dress. A partial answer arrived—and made matters worse—in the form of parlor maids Tildy and Emily, who at that moment turned into the corridor carrying trays laden with breakfast victuals. Their murmured conversation suddenly went silent, and they came to abrupt halts and surveyed the scene with wide, uncertain eyes.

For several unbearable seconds no one spoke a word. Then Penelope huffed, pivoted, and stomped noisily away. Ivy compressed her lips. Colin's mother exchanged a scandalized look with her brother, Colin's uncle Horatio, Lord Shelby.

It was Sabrina who blithely broke the silence. “Well. What a surprise. We didn't know you two had returned.”

As if matters weren't bad enough, their audience grew by yet another member as Geoffrey sauntered down the corridor. “I say, Tildy, is breakfast ready?”

Denials and excuses slid through Colin's brain. But there was no denying the obvious. The aftermath of their lovemaking hung about them as sweet and languid as the dew on the morning landscape. The blanket tucked in the crook of his arm didn't help.

“I'm glad you're both safely back,” Willow said with an attempt at a smile, though the corners of her mouth never quite achieved an upward tilt. “We . . . er . . . missed you.”

The silence stretched to breaking. Colin could feel Holly's mortification emanating in waves from her skin, flushed now to an alarming scarlet—a hue reflected in her sisters' faces. His mother's as well. Yet when he hazarded another sideways glance, he saw that Holly held her chin high and her shoulders level. She gestured behind her to the library desk.

“We have been testing samples of feed and water and researching our findings against known causes of acute colic. We believe we found the answer.”

His chest swelled with pride at the unwavering note in her voice. And after all, she hadn't lied, and what she'd left out was no one's business.

It seemed to work a charm on everyone, for the tension broke and excited questions tumbled forth. Uncle Horatio turned to Tildy and Emily and bade them take the breakfast trays to the drawing room, telling them everyone would be along soon.

“Bracken!” Sabrina exclaimed. “How did you ever discover that?”

“It was Holly,” he said proudly. “She found a small but identifiable particle among the feed.”

“But how?” Uncle Horatio asked. “Accidents like that don't simply happen. Someone, somewhere, was negligent.”

Colin nodded. “I hope to find out who that person was.” He didn't add that he also intended to ascertain whether the act was accidental or intentional, but the look his uncle flashed him said their thoughts were not far apart.

“I appreciate everything you all did in my absence,” he said to the group. “Sabrina, I know you headed up the efforts to keep the horses moving, well watered, and fed with only fresh hay. If not for that, we may have seen many deaths.”

“You're welcome,” she said quietly, without the hauteur he might have expected. “At times it felt rather like pushing a boulder up a slippery slope.”

“We also sent samples to Simon,” Ivy said. “He and the rest of the Galileo Club can utilize the Royal Society's best facilities. Perhaps they'll help you find where the bracken originated.”

Colin nodded his thanks. Then he couldn't help being curious. “Has Lady Penelope been helping?”

Sabrina shrugged. “She has a horse of her own here, remember. She's been overseeing his care, though he shows no sign of the illness.”

Probably ordering the grooms about at the expense of the other animals, Colin couldn't help thinking, perhaps unfairly. But Penelope had never impressed him with acts of generosity or kindness. He wondered what tales she might be telling even at that moment about what she had seen when the library door opened.

Clearly he would have to marry Holly now.

 

The duchess's speculative gaze shifted back and forth between Holly and Colin, and Holly could all but see the wheels turning in the woman's mind. The family reputation, the scandal, her husband's reaction when he learned of the incident, as he most assuredly would. What words must her mind be forming to describe the woman who had just, for all appearances, trapped her son into a commitment?

“You have no choice but to marry,” Ivy said once they were alone in their rooms a short time later. “Even if Her Grace and Lord Shelby were willing to turn a blind eye, Lady Penelope certainly will not. I'd be astonished if all of Ascot didn't know of this by luncheon. And from there, well . . .”

Willow raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Lady Penelope appeared rather furious.”

“She had good reason to be.” Holly inwardly groaned as she remembered the look on the duchess's face as the library door had opened. “They all have good reason to be livid.”

“Colin will be better off,” Willow said with a decisive sniff. “And if you ask me, the duchess agrees. And I don't believe Her Grace looks at all unfavorably upon you.”

Holly grimaced at her sister's naive assertion. “How can she not? I essentially stripped her eldest son of his most important choices in life.”

Ivy sat on the bed beside her and put an arm across her shoulders. “Who could be a better choice for Colin than you? The circumstances are perhaps a smidgeon less than ideal, but I think the result is splendid.”

“Neither of you understands.” Holly shook her head. “I cannot marry Colin. It would be wrong. He . . .” Dismay squeezed her heart.

Willow made a face of incredulity. “No else believes it to be wrong. Except Lady Penelope and her parents, of course.”

“Indeed. I can think of no one more ill suited for Colin than Lady Penelope,” Ivy declared with a shudder.

Holly shot each of them a pensive look, and made a decision. “There is something you don't understand.” She gestured for Willow to sit beside Ivy. Then Holly herself stood and faced them. “Colin doesn't wish to marry me.”

“I can't believe that.”

“It's true, Ivy. You may think you know him, but you don't, not as well as I have come to know him these past few days. It isn't that he might not like to marry me. He expressed quite the opposite desire. But he believes that not marrying me is the best way to protect me. You see, he
did
steal the colt.”

“No!” This came from both sisters at once.

“His reasons were noble enough,” Holly was quick to add, “but he refuses to link his fate to mine.”

“Oh, but that's silly . . .” Willow started to say, when Ivy interrupted her.

“You did bring the colt back, did you not?”

Holly clutched her hands at her waist. “The colt has been stolen . . . again. This time, neither Colin nor I know who took him or where he might be.”

“You
lost
the colt?” Willow whispered around her splayed fingers. “Good heavens, what
will
Victoria say? What will she
do
?”

In a burst of frustration Holly began pacing. “That is precisely why Colin is convinced we cannot marry. Although . . . I don't believe that is quite true.” She stopped pacing. “It seems he simply can't believe that any love can be strong enough to prevail over the adversity we face. He doesn't believe I, or anyone, can possibly love him enough to stand by him if matters become dire.”

“Oh, but that is fearing the worst.” Ivy rose from the bed and pressed a hand to Holly's cheek. “We must hope that the colt will eventually be found. Colin is a man of vast resources. Surely he will—”