Wishing For Rainbows (Historical Romance) (7 page)

Her head swam with the enormity of what was happening. She felt as though someone had waved a magic wand and given her everything she had ever wished for. She found herself hoping that he was her secret admirer. The thought of stirring someone like Trenton to such behaviour was thrilling and filled her heart to overflowing with heady excitement.

Was this why he had sent her the note? A shiver of delight coursed through her and she leaned infinitesimally closer to him, determined to enjoy the precious gift she had been given. In spite of the potential consequences should they get caught, she began to copy the gentle movements of his mouth. It felt wonderful as though she was lost in a sensual dream she never wanted to end.

This was Trenton, and he was kissing
her
, Ursula Proctor from Yorkshire. It was wonderful. It was stupendous. It was the most wondrous moment of her life.

When voices from outside of the door began to filter through the silence, Trenton reluctantly eased back. He was more than a little shaken to find that his body thrummed with desire so strong that he struggled to remember where they were.

At first, his intention had been to kiss her hard and scare her back to the ball. If she was worried she would be less inclined to agree to any more secret assignations, and he knew now that was what had been planned. While his decision had seemed a good idea at the time, now he had tasted her he was hooked on the honeyed nectar of her mouth. He was ensnared; captivated, and couldn’t pull away. She tasted like honey and sunshine. It was as addictive as the lure of her feminine curves now pressed tightly against him. To his surprise, his body roared to life as her curves settled against his solid length with such perfection it felt as though she had been created just for him.

With a low moan, he couldn’t ignore the desire that hammered his senses and tugged her closer. He slid one hand into her hair to hold her steady while his lips returned to hers. This time the kiss was different; hungrier; more a possession rather than tender exploration. His head tipped to one side as he set about plundering her senses the way he really wanted to.

When his tongue swept over the gentle curve of her lips, she gasped. Her senses reeled as he took advantage of her momentary hesitation to explore deeper into the warm recess of her mouth. She felt branded, possessed and knew that from this moment on, whatever the future had in store for either of them, she would remain forever his.

“Ursula,” he growled many minutes later when he finally gathered enough strength to wrench his lips away from hers.

The sudden rustle of foliage at the back of the room, together with the soft scuff of a footstep, made him look up warily. He tensed and studied their surroundings with a frown. Although he couldn’t see anyone he suspected they were not alone.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured as he reluctantly eased away from her.

He had to consider the consequences to her reputation if they were caught in a compromising embrace. It was enough to make him grit his teeth, ignore the temptation of her delectable curves, and put some distance between them.

She stared at him in mortification at the matter-of-fact tone of his voice. There was no hint of the same desire that had sent her senses reeling and rendered her knees weak. Instead, there was a wariness about him that left her cheeks aflame with embarrassment. It was evident that he hadn’t been as affected by what they had just shared, and might even regret it.

“I need to go,” Ursula murmured, trying to push his hands away from her waist. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do but pride forced her to step away from the warmth of his embrace.

“Ursula, listen to me,” he demanded, refusing to allow her to leave until he had spoken with her. He bit back a low groan at the feel of her squirming against him and tightened his arms. “Stop, for Heaven’s sake. I am not going to hurt you. I apologise for taking liberties. I just wanted to speak with you.”

“Yes, I noticed,” she snapped, pushing once more against the solid muscles of his arms. “You can unhand me now.”

“Not until you have listened to me, Ursula. What are you doing in here?”

“You sent for me,” she replied hesitantly.

“
Me
?” He scowled down at her. “How did you know to come here?”

“I received your note,” Ursula asked.

Her stomach dropped in acute dismay when she read the denial on his face. She knew immediately that he hadn’t been the sender and his next words confirmed it.

“Let me see the note.” He held his hand out.

“It is nothing to do with you,” Ursula protested, still trembling from the force of what they had just shared.

“It has everything to do with me,” Trenton countered. “I promised your father I would keep an eye on you.”

She went cold and stared at him. “Is that why you followed me?”

He nodded. “I saw you coming this way and suspected you were meeting with someone.” Trenton scowled. “Who is he, Ursula?”

She wasn’t sure what to think, what to do now, except get away and shed her tears in private.

“I don’t need you to keep an eye on me. I am not some nincompoop,” she snapped, hiding her shattered heart behind a bold display of temper.

“Really? Then what are you doing arranging secret assignations in darkened conservatories?” Trenton growled making no attempt to restrain her when she wrenched out of his arms and took several steps away from him.

“I am not.”

Trenton glanced pointedly around them and looked askance at her.

“I received a note that told me someone wanted to meet me here. They had something to tell me,” she added weakly when the sceptical look on his face didn’t change.

“I am sure they did,” Trenton snorted.

“It wasn’t a secret assignation,” Ursula protested. She sucked in a breath and willed herself to remain strong until she could leave. She tipped her chin up and glared at him. 

“Meeting someone in a darkened conservatory isn’t a secret assignation?” He looked sternly at her. “So, who is the note from? Who were you expecting; Brampton perhaps?” The very thought made his temper surge.

“It is nothing to do with you,” she protested. “Father had no right to ask you to look after me. I am not a child anymore.”

“He was worried about you because you are not used to London,” Trenton explained. The word ‘obviously’ hung in the air as he studied the conservatory pointedly.

His condescending manner struck a chord deep within Ursula, and she felt tears sting her eyes as her humiliation grew.

“I am sure you would know all about secret assignations in darkened places,” she snapped as she glanced pointedly toward the door. Jealousy made it impossible to keep quiet and her next words were out before she could stop them. “Where is that dark haired beauty you were cuddled up to in the main hallway for the world to see? Got bored with her, did you? Maybe she is still waiting? Or maybe she is talking to your fiancé?”

Trenton scowled. “Don’t change the subject, Ursula. We are not discussing me. We are discussing your wayward behaviour.”

“Wayward behaviour?” she gasped. “You kissed me!”

“You were here unchaperoned, in the dark, willing to meet with someone who sent you a mysterious note. You are asking for trouble,” he warned her. “You should be thankful it was me who came to see you, and not your secret admirer.”

He had a point, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him. “What I do, where I go, and whom I talk to, is nothing to do with you.”

“Everything you do has something to do with me now. I promised your father I would keep an eye on you and that is what I intend to do.”

“So kissing me is keeping an eye on me, is it? I am not sure that father would agree with you on that one,” she replied with a sniff. “Are you going to tell him about what we have just shared? Given that nobody else has turned up, I can only assume that the note was given to me incorrectly anyway.”

“Where are you going?” he demanded when she walked around him and swept regally toward the door.

“Back to the ball before someone finds me alone, in the dark, with
you
. Then you will have something to report to father, won’t you? And your fiancé. And your mistress in the hallway.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond and left the room without backward look. The urge to cry was strong, but she refused to allow tears to fall just yet. Instead, she hurried through the house blindly, and heaved a sigh of relief when she entered the main hallway and found Adelaide waiting for her.

“Oh, there you are, Ursula. I was just looking for you. Are you ready to go?” Adelaide asked as soon as she saw her. “Is everything alright dear?”

“Yes, everything is fine. I am more than ready to leave,” Ursula replied fervently.

She daren’t glance toward the darkened hallway behind her. Thankfully, there was no sign of Trenton in the hallway yet, but that wasn’t altogether a bad thing. At the moment, she wasn’t sure what she would say, or do, if she ever saw him again.

“Are you alright, dear?” Adelaide asked as the carriage lurched into motion.

“Yes, just tired, that’s all,” she replied absently as she stared out of the window.

It was only when the carried pull to a stop outside of Adelaide’s house that she remembered she hadn’t danced with Brampton, or the rest of the men who had marked her card. With a sigh, she climbed down and hurried off to bed, wondering what she was going to say to any of them the next time she saw them.

Trenton remained in the sheltered confines of the conservatory for several moments to allow his body to cool. The last thing he wanted was to meet the rather forceful Barbarella again, especially given the state he was in. He rested shoulders against the wall and allowed the silence to settle around him while he considered what had just happened. Not only had he just kissed the woman who had owned his youthful fantasies for as long as he could remember, but they had had their first argument too.

“Not bad for a night’s work,” he murmured ruefully, wondering how on earth he was going to put things right now.

The minutes ticked by. The longer he remained there, thinking of ways to get Ursula to speak to him again, the more the feeling that he was being watched grew and he realised he was no longer alone. Before he could investigate, the door beside him suddenly began to open. Hidden by shadows, he remained perfectly still and watched the silhouette of a man glide silently into the room. He shook his head and bit back a curse as Brampton sidled into the room. Rather than enter, he paused, studied the area, most probably in search of Ursula and then quietly left again.

“Damn you, Brampton,” Trenton growled aloud once the door had closed and silence had fallen over the conservatory once more. His fingers clenched against the urge to yank the door open, storm after Brampton, and warn him to keep his distance from Ursula. However, he realised that with someone like the disreputable rogue, he had to tread carefully. To threaten someone like Brampton would only make him worse and he would be likely to pursue Ursula just to spite Trenton.

Setting that problem aside for now, he turned his attention back to the foliage around him. Although the feeling of being watched remained, he still couldn’t see anyone. Without crawling through the various shrubs and plants there was no way of knowing for definite if anyone was there or whether it was just his wayward imagination.

With a sigh, he quietly let himself out and made his way into the main body of the house. He arrived in the main hall just in time to watch Adelaide’s carriage disappear into the darkness. Disgusted that he wouldn’t get the opportunity to put matters right tonight, he sent for his cloak and, with one eye on the rapidly approaching Barbarella, left for home.

Deep inside the darkened conservatory, the shadows moved and parted. The silent figure stared at the door for several moments before stealthily moving to the French doors that overlooked the garden. Fingers tightened in agitation, but not a sound was made as the figure slipped out into the gardens.

The only sign he had been there at all was the gentle swaying of the plants.

“That’s a deep sigh, my dear,” Adelaide declared from the opposite end of the breakfast table.

Ursula dropped the letter back onto the table and glared at it. She had been so busy reflecting on what had happened with Trenton the other day that she had completely forgotten about writing to her father.

“It’s from Papa,” she replied. “I forgot to write to him. He has informed me that my month is nearly up and is pushing me to make a decision.”

“Then you must endeavour to inform him that you have yet to make your choice, and shall do so in your own good time. Tell him that you have decided to remain in London for the time being at my request. He can hardly demand you return to Yorkshire so he can marry you off, now can he?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” Ursula retorted tartly. “I shall endeavour to write to him today.”

“Oh, dear me,” Adelaide burst out. The rattle of her tea cup hitting her saucer was loud in the quiet of the breakfast room.

Ursula looked up in surprise. “Whatever is it?” She studied her aunt’s scowl and wondered if she too had received a letter from her father.

“It’s an invitation to take tea at The White Dove Tea Rooms.”

Ursula’s brows rose. “Is that bad?”

Adelaide looked up at her. “It’s from that Sinnerton woman.”

“Ah,” she sighed with an understanding nod.

“Did you see Alfred at the ball?”

“No, I didn’t, although I was aware that the mother was there with her daughter. I am sure he must have been there somewhere.” She smiled somewhat naughtily at her aunt. “We just didn’t cross paths.”

Adelaide nodded her approval. “Long may it continue, I say.”

“I cannot help but feel a little sorry for him,” Ursula sighed after several moments of thoughtful silence.

“Well, don’t get too soft. He is the type that would lure you into a darkened corner somewhere just to talk to you. You don’t want to be compromised by the likes of him.”

Ursula choked as she was taking a sip of tea. Although she managed to keep her face bland, her hand trembled alarmingly as she placed her tea cup back into its saucer. “Why would I ever find myself in that kind of situation?”

“I wouldn’t trust that mother of his. In all the years I have been attending these social occasions, I have never seen anyone as pushy with their son before. Just be careful, that’s all I am saying,” Adelaide replied darkly.

“I cannot think of anything worse than being compromised by him,” Ursula confessed. “But I seriously doubt that they should consider me a catch worthy of such clandestine scheming.”

Before Adelaide could respond, the arrival of Isaac drew their attention. Rather than deliver another arrangement of flowers, he bowed toward Ursula.

“There is a gentleman here to see you, miss.”

“This early?” Adelaide gasped in outrage as she glared accusingly at the clock.

“He wishes to see Miss Ursula, ma’am.”

“Whoever is it?”

“Mr Brampton, ma’am.” The tone of the butler’s voice told her that he too had heard the rumours about the man and was less than pleased at having to let him into the house.

“Please show him to the morning room, Isaac. I shall be there in a moment,” Ursula instructed before her aunt could speak.

“I shall come with you,” Adelaide declared abruptly, and pushed away from the table before Ursula could argue.

“Good morning, ladies,” Brampton drawled when they both swept into the morning room. He bowed politely as they took a seat. “Please accept my apologies for calling this early. I know it is a little crass of me but I happened to be passing and was under instruction to drop in.”

He glanced pointedly at the clock on the mantle, aware that it was the ladies who were running late.

“How may we help you?” Adelaide replied snootily.

“I have been asked to deliver these invitations to you,” he said as he handed her one of two embossed envelopes.

When Adelaide tried to take both envelopes off him, Brampton tugged the second envelope out of her fingers. Ignoring Adelaide’s warning look, he turned and presented one to Ursula with a bow. “This one is for you, my dear.”

“Thank you,” she murmured with a smile, mentally applauding his behaviour. She issued him a winning smile that made him do a double-take and look at her in surprise for several seconds before he was snapped out of his daze by Adelaide’s next words.

“I am afraid our diaries are all booked up for the next several weeks,” Adelaide declared, carefully ignoring the fact that she hadn’t even opened the envelope.

“Ah, but this is for afternoon tea tomorrow. I take it from the gossips that there is very little going on then. My mother has invited several of your friends. She said to tell you that she will be most displeased if you decline this invitation too.” There was a hint of steel to his voice as he looked at Adelaide that made the old woman stare suspiciously at him. Even to Ursula, it was clear that Adelaide was being put on the spot and, unless she was inclined to shun not just Brampton, but his family too, she had no choice but to accept the invitation.

Clearly displeased at having to do so, she nodded gracefully. “Then we should be pleased to accept,” she said, although the tone of her voice it was clear she was anything but.

Brampton nodded and looked at Ursula with his brows lifted.

“I should be delighted, thank you,” she replied softly.

“I look forward to seeing you both there then,” he murmured. His eyes remained locked on Ursula for a moment but, before either lady could say anything else, he bowed politely and took his leave.

Ursula watched him go with a slight frown on her face. Sensing her aunt was about to launch into a vilification of him, she quickly stood and shook her skirts out. “I will write that letter to Papa while I remember,” she declared.

As she walked up the stairs, however, she thought over Brampton’s visit. Everything the man did was the epitome of smooth and sophisticated charm. He had stared deeply into her eyes as though he wanted to devour her. Why then did she feel as though she wanted to turn tail and run? Where was the attraction that had held her captive when Trenton had done the same? Trenton stared at her and her knees turned to mush, and her mind wouldn’t work properly. When Brampton looked at her with desire in his eyes, her mind wandered off somewhere else.

It was clear that there was no attraction at all toward Brampton; only Trenton. Did that mean that no man would ever create the same feelings within her that Trenton’s masterful kisses had wrought the other night? Was she ruined for any other man but Trenton? That thought left her more than a little unnerved. Especially given that Trenton was engaged. She shouldn’t be thinking of him in any other way than a mere acquaintance. Yet she couldn’t get what they had shared the other night out of her mind.

With more questions than she had answers, she wasn’t altogether sure that she shouldn’t just go back to Yorkshire. If she absolutely refused to marry anyone and stood her ground against her father, maybe he would eventually give up on his quest to marry her off. Unfortunately, there was a very strong possibility that he wouldn’t surrender his determination that she marry, and she would be left with her life in tatters.

Once in her room, she settled down at her writing desk, drew out some parchment, and dipped her quill into the ink pot. Unfortunately, the words wouldn’t flow. There was nothing she wanted to say right now that felt right. She stared blankly down at the parchment for several moments, but couldn’t find a way to even begin her letter home. With a sigh, she lay her quill down and sat on the window seat so she could overlook the gardens.

She immediately began to think about Trenton and his kisses. While she was inwardly thrilled that he had kissed her, she was a little perturbed at the thought that her father had asked him to watch over her. It was humiliating to think that neither man considered her able to look after herself, even with her Aunt Adelaide as chaperone. After all, what did they expect her to do?

Answer a request for a secret assignation in a dark corner of someone’s house, that’s what,
an inner voice reminded her pertly.

What should she do the next time she saw him? She couldn’t exactly blank him
per se,
but neither could she engage in casual conversation as though nothing had happened between them. Not after what they had shared the other night. However, she knew it would be better for both of them if she found the strength to at least appear as unperturbed by the encounter as he had apparently been.

When she realised she wasn’t going to settle her mind to deciding what to do about him, she turned her attention to the flowers. She should focus on discovering the identity of her secret admirer so she could ask him to stop sending them. How though? How did one go about identifying a secret admirer who seemingly didn’t wish to be known?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the bedroom door. She turned around in time to watch her maid enter the room with yet another arrangement of flowers.

“Another one has arrived, miss,” the maid murmured as she slid the posies onto the dresser. “Where shall I put it?”

Ursula studied it in dismay. “The dresser should be fine, thank you.” She studied the arrangement once the maid had turned to leave. “Was there no note with it?”

“Nothing, miss,” the maid replied quietly. “Will that be all, miss?”

“Yes, thank you,” Ursula replied vaguely.

At the tea tomorrow she must remember to ask Brampton if he liked flowers. Maybe, with some discrete questioning, she could find out if he was her mysterious admirer. However, given that several of the arrangements had been in the morning room when he had called by, and he hadn’t even glanced at them, she suspected that he wasn’t the sender either.

That left her with the continued problem of who continued to send her the flowers and why they didn’t tell her who they were? More importantly, how did she go about finding out who it was without directly asking people?

She was still considering that problem later that night when she rolled over in bed for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I hate London,” she grumbled as she listened to what she now knew was constant noise.

The ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder with each passing minute and added to the headache that had started to form behind her eyes. Outside, the rumble of carriage wheels outside seemed to go on and on, even though the hour was well past midnight. It was impossible to get any peace whatsoever because there was always something that interrupted the silence, and rendered sleep impossible, like now.

Taking an early night had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, she wished she had done some sewing, or read for a while until she was sleepy enough to fall asleep.

“It was my only evening at home by myself as well,” she groused aloud.

She wished now that she had asked the maid to put several more logs onto the fire. Goose bumps stood out on her arm. Although she tucked it beneath the covers she was still cold. She wondered if she should get up and put some more logs on, but the thought of leaving the meagre warmth between the sheets made her tug them up to her chin instead.

A frown swept over her face when the soft tickle of a gentle breeze swept over her cheeks. She had closed the shutters herself so knew she couldn’t possibly have left a window open. Where was the breeze coming from then? Even through the darkness, she could see that her bedroom door was closed so it couldn’t be coming from the hallway.

She rolled over in bed and sighed deeply in an effort to will her mind to settle. When another breeze swept over her; she sniffed and knew it was going to be impossible to fall asleep until she warmed up a little. Suddenly, the atmosphere within the room shifted and became dark and almost expectant.

Although she couldn’t see much, something was decidedly different. The shadows at the far end of the room seemed darker somehow. It was ridiculous really; they couldn’t possibly be. Could they?

She studied the darkness a little more closely. She was positive she had been able to see the pictures that hung on the wall moments earlier. Now, she could see nothing but darkness.

All thoughts of going to sleep vanished. Something, some inner instinct for self-preservation, warned her not to close her eyes. Instead, she remained motionless and stared at the same spot of darkness that appeared to be moving. Were her eyes deceiving her? Her heart leapt into her throat when the shadow slowly became more defined. She watched in horror as it moved away from the wall and crept silently toward her. Fear knotted in her stomach.

There was an intruder in her bedroom.

She began to tremble with the need to run, but her limbs wouldn’t work. When the shadow began to change shape and the outline of a man became visible, she realised that one of the shutters now stood open. That was where the breeze was coming from, and how the intruder had gained entrance. Her eyes snapped back to the dark shadow that continued to glide ever closer. A scream locked in her throat when she realised he had reached the end of the bed.

Without further thought, she threw the covers off and threw herself out of bed and raced toward the bedroom door. The skirts of her night-dress got tangled in her legs slowing her pace a little as she raced across the room, but she didn’t stop. Once at the door, she had no sooner placed her hands on the brass knob when cold hands grabbed her waist and began to tug her backward.