Undesirable Liaison (34 page)

‘Flo?’

She started.
Had she been in reverie? Her voice came at him across the room, a
note of desperation within it.

‘I want to
believe in it, Jerome, but I dare not.’

‘Then I had
best believe for the both of us.’

He was moving
on the words, and Florence’s breath shortened. Despite the hint of
promise contained in his words, despite the gentle note in his
voice, she was afraid. Of what she hardly knew.

He reached out
as he got to her, drawing her into his embrace and holding her
there. Flo stood passive, unmoving, aware of his warmth and her
inevitable response to his maleness close at hand. Tremors shook
her.

‘Why do you
tremble so, my bird? What is it you fear?’

‘This,’ she
answered, and the words spilled out. ‘I am afraid of this.’

‘Of being in my
arms? Why so?’

She drew a
little away and looked up at the strong hard lines of his face,
softened by the moonlight—or by something else?

‘Not of being
with you. Only of the way you are. The way I am. When you took me
in heat, I could answer you. My need was as demanding as your own,
I believe. But it is no longer the same, Jerome.’

She reached up
one hand, and her fingers brushed at a lock of his hair escaping
onto his cheek. She drew a breath for courage, and said it at
last.

‘Everything is
changed now, for you have made me love you, and—and I don’t know
how to deal with it.’

A strange light
came into his eyes, and his hold about her tightened.

‘Must you deal
with it? Can’t you experience it, live it, just as you experienced
my love-making the first time?’

‘Love-making?’
Flo let out a startled little laugh. ‘I thought it was
lust-making!’

Jerome smiled.
‘Guilty as charged.’ He nestled her closer. ‘But you overlook one
thing, my darling bird. Or perhaps you haven’t yet realised it. I
am as much a slave to love as you claim to be. If I made you love
me, you have succeeded in making me reciprocate.’

She drew in an
overcharged breath, and sighed it out.

‘That is it
then. I knew it, I think, but did not dare believe in it. You are
as different in mood as I.’

‘Gloriously
different.’ His lips caressed her cheek, her eyes, her hair. ‘I had
no notion of the miracle you have wrought.’ He drew back on a
slight laugh. ‘Ironic that I have Theo to thank for opening my
eyes.’

‘Your cousin?’
Flo gazed at him wide-eyed. ‘How could that be?’

‘He pointed out
the blackness of my spirits.’ A sudden jerk crushed her tight
against him, a husky note sounding in his voice. ‘I was inwardly
distraught, my Flo, from the instant you begged me to set you
free.’

His hold
relaxed, enough to find her lips, as if to draw from their wild
response the reassurance he sought. His eyes, when he came away,
were dark with question.

‘You were
anguished, my poor bird. I saw it, but did not understand.’

‘But you
understand now,’ Florence uttered, out of certainty he had read her
completely. ‘It had come to me how much I love you, Jerome. I could
not bear to be your mistress—not then.’

‘You are not
going to be my mistress.’ His grip was fierce on her shoulders.
‘You are going to be my wife.’

Flo winced.
‘You are hurting me.’

His hold
slackened, but there was no diminution of determination in his
features.

‘Have you
understood me, Flo? We
will
be married.’

Her fingers
reached up, touching his face, smoothing at the furrow in his
brow.

‘Do you imagine
I don’t want that?’

‘I don’t know,’
he said, releasing one shoulder so he might capture the fingers and
bring them to his lips. ‘With so contrary a wench, I am never sure
of anything.’

A smile curved
her lip, but she was near to tears.

‘One of us must
be sensible, Jerome. How can we marry? Now you know it all, surely
you see how impossible it is.’

‘I see barriers
that are none of your making. Yes, there will be talk. I have not
lived seven years the object of scandalous conjecture without
learning a thing or two about human nature.’

‘I too,’ sighed
Florence. ‘Indeed, I have known nothing but scandal.’

Jerome grinned.
‘You see how well suited we are?’

‘Don’t joke.’
But the light of amusement glimmered in her eyes nonetheless. ‘And
what of Bel? I am shocked she knows, but it makes me doubly
determined to protect her. I cannot have her ridiculed.’

‘She won’t be,’
promised Jerome. ‘We’ll find a way to make her respectable, never
fear.’ His tone altered. ‘Though I’ve a mind to pay a visit to that
damned cousin of yours—one he won’t enjoy.’

He was half in
jest, but he saw a shadow cross Flo’s face. Apprehension seized
him.

‘What is it,
Florence? Is there more I should know? Tell me!’

She pulled away
from him, shifting to the window and gazing out into the night. She
spoke with her back to him.

‘If there is to
be talk of marriage between us, you had best know it all.’ There
was a choke in her voice. ‘He was cruel. Or perhaps merely callous.
He made his first proposals to me while my mother was yet living,
while she lay on her sickbed—and I nursing her, not knowing if she
would survive.’

Jerome hissed
in a breath as the sense of this penetrated.

‘Do you tell me
the villain wanted you for his mistress? He dared to proposition
you when he had been your mother’s bed-mate for years? When he knew
his own daughter was your sister? Dear God in heaven!’

‘It was worse
than you know.’

Jerome felt
sick, a hideous possibility rearing up in his mind.

‘My mother was
scarce cold in her grave before he made it known I had no choice.
Either I took her place in his affections—oh, yes, he dared to call
it that!—or he would no longer support either me or Belinda.’

His heart was
pumping, but he managed to keep his tone even. ‘What did you say to
him?’

Flo turned to
look at him at last. ‘I agreed.’

Jerome felt as
if his world was spinning in on him. Yet through the disorienting
giddiness, an anomaly struck him.

‘But you were
virgin. By God, if you lied to me, Flo—’

‘I lied to
him.’

‘What do you
mean?’

‘I said I would
do it, but only when my year of mourning was up.’

The words bit
out of her, and as Jerome listened, the sensation of being helpless
in a maelstrom began to dissipate.

‘He agreed to
it because I threatened to spread the news of his depravity all
about the neighbourhood. He could not risk that. And it gave me
time. I wrote to all the relatives who had refused help to Mama.
None would take us in, not much to my surprise, but several sent
money, which at least enabled me to come away at last, bringing
Belinda with me.’

Into the heady
relief crept remorse. Vaguely Jerome recalled the story she had
told him when they first met. This had been the secret part she
would not confide. No wonder. But he’d had no right to doubt
her—not for one instant.

Crossing to
her, he captured her hands, taking first one and then the other to
his lips.

‘Forgive me.
I’ve treated you abominably. You accused me of dragging you into
this, and you were right. After all you had already undergone.’

‘But you did
not know that,’ she excused him.

‘No, and I
can’t regret it, my bird.’ He drew her closer. ‘I love you,
Florence Petrie. You are a woman of unstinting courage and truth,
and I care nothing for the rest. I want you with me every day, and
I want you honourably. Say you will marry me.’

Florence’s
heart leaped, but the seed of doubt still troubled her. ‘Are you
sure, Jerome? You will not regret it?’’

He grinned. ‘I
have done that already. Why do you suppose I was drinking tonight,
if not by way of a wake to my departing freedom?’

She laughed,
but there were yet misgivings.

‘And what of
your mother? You know she dislikes me, and if you were to wed
me—’

‘She will be
delighted,’ cut in Jerome, and amusement sounded in his tone.
‘Apart from losing a companion she does not want, recollect it will
ensure Belinda’s remaining in her vicinity.’

‘Even when she
discovers the truth about her?’

‘Even then, I
suspect. It was Mama who alerted me to the differences between you
two. To be frank, I don’t think she will be much surprised to find
you are in fact half-sisters. She will probably insist on adopting
Belinda.’

‘Heavens, will
she? Belinda won’t like that. She begged me not to allow it.’

‘She will like
it, if it gives her respectability.’ He drew her back into his
embrace. ‘But these are mere bridges, my bird, and we will cross
them when we must—together.’

Flo’s heart
thrilled to the words, and the unprecedented tenderness of his tone
eased away the last of her doubts. A sigh escaped her as she
nestled into his arms.

‘If you knew
how I have cursed that wretched gemstone.’

‘Not near as
thoroughly as I, be sure,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘Though I can
almost find it in me to thank Letty for so cunningly concealing the
thing. Little though she guessed it must become the instrument by
which you were brought to me.’

‘It is the
oddest twist of fate.’ Drawing away a little, Flo looked up into
the softened features, a hint of irony in her tone. ‘Or destiny, if
you must have it.’

Hunger flared
in his eyes. ‘I must have you, Flo, and that is destiny enough. But
you do not answer, insufferable female! Will you give up your
scruples and marry me?’

Flo glinted at
him, a quiver in her voice. ‘You, of all men, my Lord Langriville,
ought to know I have no scruples.’

He grinned.
‘Yes, thank the Lord. But I’m referring, Miss Petrie, to something
other than your abandoned conduct in the hall downstairs.’

‘
My
abandoned conduct? And who, pray, began upon it?’

‘Your equally
abandoned husband-to-be. Speaking of which, my adorable Flo—’

‘Yes, I will
marry you,’ Florence interrupted, and her breath caught as she was
seized into a violent embrace.

The kiss was
ruthless, and intensely satisfying. Secure in his love, Florence
surrendered to the sensations he was conjuring within her. The
effect was immediate.

Jerome came up,
gasping raggedly for air. ‘Dear God, where the devil is the
bed?’

She was swept
up, tingling with anticipation, and the thought flitted through her
mind that this time she might savour it all and leave guilt behind.
In a moment, she was lying on the bed, Jerome’s limbs tangling into
hers. His voice, redolent with desire, came huskily in her ear.

‘And now, my
darling bird, let us resume where we left off, with as much abandon
as we can contrive.’

Already lost in
the flame of his ardour, Flo was only too ready to oblige.

If you have enjoyed this story, and have the time and
inclination to leave a review, it will be very much
appreciated.

Elizabeth Bailey
grew up in the open
spaces and tropical atmosphere of colonial Africa, one of four
siblings with distinctly unconventional parents. Reading and drama
were inculcated from an early age and both have borne adult fruit
in acting, directing and writing. Elizabeth returned to the England
of Mary Quant and geometric hair, and ended a brief secretarial
career by landing in drama school and thence treading the boards.
In her thirties, Elizabeth discovered her true métier as a writer
and fulfilled an early addiction to Georgette Heyer by launching
into historical romance. It took the proverbial lengthy
apprenticeship before Harlequin Mills & Boon accepted her first
novel, but they have overall published 18 of her novels.

Elizabeth’s writing swerved in a new
direction with the publication of the first two in a Georgian
historical crime series, THE GILDED SHROUD and THE DEATHLY PORTENT,
published by Berkley Books (Penguin US). But since she still loves
writing romance, Elizabeth is delighted with the opportunity to
publish her work independently.

More to be found at:

Follow Elizabeth Bailey on
twitter @lizbwrites or on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/elizabeth.bailey.391

ALSO BY ELIZABETH
BAILEY

and available in digital
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Set on unravelling the mystery, Gerald begins a relentless pursuit
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not to be rescued.

TRAILER:
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