A Heart Revealed (36 page)

“That is a very interesting observation,” Miss Sterlington said after a few moments of contemplation.

“It is very much in line with your observation regarding women finding position in society if they have a mind to do so. My mother is part of a woman’s society here in Yorkshire that studies matters of politics and history; they meet together to discuss a new topic each month. My sister-in-law, Lady Fielding, has headed an effort to send supplies to an orphanage in Ireland quite depleted in resources. Neither of them were afforded a critical education and both were dependent first upon their fathers and then their husbands—yet they have both flourished within their spheres, just as, I believe, Kate did.”

Miss Sterlington leaned forward slightly as he spoke, as though unwilling to miss a single word. When he stopped, she remained silent for several seconds and he could only assume she was pondering his bold words. She seemed to realize herself and sat back against the settee, repairing her thoughtful expression with one of a bit more ease.

“I wonder if I could ask you to read me that final speech of Kate’s. I have read it myself but have never seen beyond the seeming servitude of her thoughts. I have learned before now that your skills at oration can give new meaning to such things.” She smiled and Thomas’s heart flipped within his chest. He had not seen such a radiant smile from her since London, and yet there had been a falseness to the expression back then—a calculation. This smile, here in North Riding, was perhaps the truest he had ever seen upon her face.

“I would be most pleased to read that passage,” Thomas said once he recovered himself, flattered and quite validated by the request. He had known she was listening when he read from
Richard II
and was as pleased to have her admit it as he was to see her comfortable in their company. “If you shall direct me where to find the volume?”

“I shall retrieve it, sir,” she said, setting her saucer on the table before rising and crossing to the bookshelves that filled the interior wall of the library.

Thomas rose when she did and observed her movements as the fire within him, already kindled by her intellect and smile, began to grow. She bent to position a small stool beneath the shelf, and he did not hesitate to cross the room in order to be of assistance; he ached to be near her even if only to retrieve a book she could not comfortably reach.

“Allow me,” he said, coming up behind her and reaching the topmost shelf for the book—a collection of several plays bound together in one volume. He was close enough to smell the scent of lavender and closed his eyes as he inhaled the warmth of her. He was only fractionally aware of her turning to face him until he opened his eyes—quite caught in his moment of sensory attention—and found her looking up at him with eyes that reflected the same awareness of their closeness that had him rooted in place.

He could scarcely breathe as he looked into those eyes that were far more the vulnerable girl at Carlton House than the haughty woman at Almack’s. The way the air between them increased in temperature seemed proof that she was not opposed to his nearness.

Rather than remove the book, he braced his hand against the bookshelf and waited to see if fear appeared in her eyes. Instead he saw reflected in her gaze a willingness and welcomeness that fairly caused his chest to burn through with rising heat.

Miss Sterlington lifted a hand to his chest but rather than push him away, she grasped the lapel of his coat. It was more invitation than he could refuse, and he lowered his mouth to hers, pulled by a force he could not define until his lips touched her soft and willing ones. The sensation that filled him was of a magnitude far greater than that when their hands touched over the tea tray. The hand gripping his coat pulled him closer and he did not resist as perhaps a better gentleman might have.

Instead he deepened the kiss and placed one hand alongside her jaw while placing his other hand over hers, flattening her palm against his chest so that she could feel the way his heart raced in response to her. She slid her hand up his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer until he felt sure the very room would soon catch fire.

It was only when he felt sure he was about to lose control completely that he pulled back and allowed them both the chance to breathe. He searched her face, afraid he might see regret within her expression. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled, putting his fears to rest. He smiled back and leaned in once more to kiss her cheek, allowing his lips to linger as he gained further control of himself. He moved his mouth toward her ear and whispered, “Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss, as seal to this indenture of my love.”

He felt her intake of breath and knew that despite how much he wanted to stay, it was time to take his leave. He had moved far faster today than he had anticipated, and things had not occurred in the proper order—she still had not revealed her true self to him.

Likewise he needed time to plan his response when next they saw one another. He had made his attraction quite clear and needed to align himself in order to declare his full intentions. He took a step back and bowed over her hand, kissing the back of it with a lingering press of his lips to her skin.

“I think it best that I take my leave, Madam, but might I request an audience come Tuesday?”

“O-of course, sir,” she said breathlessly enough to bring another smile to his face and another flip of his heart. To know she was as affected as he was left him steeped in warmth and invigoration.

He released her hand and tapped his finger on the tip of her perfect nose. “’Til Tuesday, then,” he said quietly.

She blinked and nodded while raising a hand to adjust her cap, though it had not shifted. “’Til Tuesday.”

Chapter 44

“I am sorry, Amber, but I will not do it.”

Amber looked at Suzanne in surprise. She was to leave for town within the hour for church and her usual Sunday evening activities. Tomorrow she would be posting the letter Amber had written in response to her mother’s invitation to attend the wedding ball.

“Suzanne, I need your help with this.” Amber held out the note she had written to Mr. Richards and shook her hand to emphasize that Suzanne should take it from her.

Suzanne clasped her hands behind her back. “And I will not do it. Mr. Richards has been nothing but kind to you, and if you are not to see him again, he deserves to hear it from your own mouth.”

“You promised me you would help me,” Amber said, disliking the whining tone of desperation in her voice.

“Which should impress upon you how seriously I feel that Mr. Richards deserves more than words on paper. I would never break my word unless I felt this strongly.”

Amber let out a breath and glanced around the kitchen as though there might be something that would support her argument. She could not
tell
Mr. Richards to cease his attentions—she could barely write the words much less say them aloud—but she was certain that sending a letter was a better course. Feeling she had no choice, Amber stood up straight, put the hand not holding the letter on her hip and drew all the
ton
left within her veins to the surface. “As your mistress, Suzanne, I
demand
you take him this letter.”

Rather than be cowed, Suzanne smiled slightly. “If that be the case, then I shall quit your service entirely.” With both hands she lifted her skirts and curtsied quite elaborately. Once she had straightened, she smiled even wider. “And you are left without a maid to deliver your message or fetch your foodstuffs or transport your laundry. Now what shall you do?”

Amber frowned and allowed her shoulders to slump. “Please take him this note,” she asked in a completely different tone. “It shall hurt him worse to hear the words than to read them.”

“You believe it shall hurt
you
less, and yet if you should think on that a bit more you know it is not true.” She moved toward Amber and looked at her hard, no longer smiling. “You know as well as I that your heart will break in a hundred pieces if he does not call on you again. The man is full in love with you.”

Instant tears filled Amber’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “He knows nothing about me. It is for the best that he forget me, Suzanne, even if it means he is disappointed for a short time. Surely you can see that.”

“I can see no such thing. You are in love with him too.”

“He does not even know who I am.”

“He knows your heart, at least as much as he has been allowed to see. Tell him the truth; let him show you the kind of man he is. I am sure you will not be disappointed.”

Amber shook her head. “I cannot bear his rejection. He has been such a brightness for me, and I want to treasure those memories, not be haunted by the look on his face when he realizes my deception and my truth.”

The intensity of Suzanne’s dark eyes bore through Amber’s senses. “Do you truly believe he comes all this way out of chivalry? Do you not see that his heart is as affected as your own? Did he not kiss you as a man in love kisses a woman of his desire?”

The kiss had filled her with such light and hope and goodness that for the space of an hour she had quite forgotten who she was and what ailed her. It was perhaps the most pleasurable moment of her life and she would forever cherish it. Should she have to see his censure when she rejected him, or, worse, be forced to tell him the truth—which would result in his rejection of her instead—she might lose that moment even within her memory. She dared not risk it and therefore must ensure that the last memory she held of Mr. Richards was one of such joyful pleasure that it would sustain her for the rest of her life.

“But he does not know me,” Amber said for the third time. “And when he learns the truth of my dishonesty and deformity he will not wish to associate with me any longer.”

“I feel you are denying both of you great happiness,” Suzanne said, sounding frustrated. “If you could for one moment see the changes that have taken place these months, you would see the very thing Mr. Richards has fallen in love with. You are unwilling to accept that you are worthy of a man such as he is.”

Amber wished she could believe it, but nothing in her life or education gave the idea any credibility. To emphasize her point she reached up and pulled off her knit cap. It had been months since Suzanne had seen Amber’s head, and Suzanne backed up a step in shock.

“This is what I am,” Amber said loudly, her arms spread wide. She walked to the table and slapped the note upon it. “If he knew, he would not feel anything but revulsion for me no matter what improvements have taken place with my character. I am not a woman who could be accepted by his family or friends, and I will not ask him to choose me over his future, his connections, and his obligations to both. I would never make him happy and have deceived him from the start. Between that deception and revelation of the truth, he should want nothing to do with me. You have to understand the wisdom of my choice to give him leave before either of us is hurt more by this game I have played with him.”

Suzanne said nothing. Amber turned away from the maid’s wide-eyed stare and replaced the cap as she returned to the sideboard, embarrassed by the depth of Suzanne’s reaction, which confirmed her fears. She could not bear to see such a reaction in Mr. Richards’s face; the anticipation of it alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“I appreciate your hopes for my happiness,” she said in a softer voice. “Truly I do, but I will appreciate even more your taking the note to Mr. Richards. It will be better for him to read the words in privacy and accept what is inevitable.” She took a breath before revealing the remainder of her decisions, hoping that perhaps Suzanne would understand this next choice better than she had the first.

“The letter I asked you to send to my mother is an acceptance of the invitation to Darra’s wedding ball. It is important for my family to have me seen by their society, and I have chosen to leave Yorkshire. I have made a request from my parents in regards to retaining my inheritance and setting up a home similar to this one, but in a different place so as not to be so close to Mr. Richards and cause him further harm. I believe I am able to care for myself so I shall not allow you to make such sacrifice as to attend me again. I am hopeful that without my situation to confine you, you will feel free to pursue your man in town and provide for yourself the happiness you deserve.”

She had to stop as emotion threatened to overcome her at the idea of losing Suzanne, but she took a breath and straightened her posture. She kept her back turned, however, unable to look Suzanne in the eye as she delivered her final words. “My mind is quite set on the matter, and I would remind you that I am still your mistress and you are still my servant. I expect you to fulfill my commands, which are for you to deliver my letters and abide my wishes.”

“Miss,” Suzanne said in a choking tone that cause Amber to close her eyes as she struggled to contain herself. She could not absorb Suzanne’s sorrow when her own was already so overwhelming.

“Please go,” Amber said, a waver to her own voice. “I have made peace with this decision, and if you care for me at all I ask that you leave me to my choice and set about the tasks I have asked you to perform in my behalf.”

Suzanne did not speak, and Amber did not turn to face her. After a moment, Amber heard her maid finish her preparations to leave, move to the door, pull it open, and then close it again. Amber braced her hands on the edge of the sideboard and dropped her head, waiting for the emotion to wash over her. She had hurt Suzanne. She would soon hurt Mr. Richards. Had she hurt every person who had ever cared for her? Was that the true reason for her exile?

Mr. Richards would surely be angry, but he would then leave her alone, assured that her heart was not bound to him in any way. She had not been gentle in her letter, and he would have no doubt that she had no interest in seeing him again. Sometime in the next fortnight her father’s traveling carriage would collect her, she would endure discomfort at the family estate for a time and then move forward with a life of her own choosing—protected from a fantasy that had only resulted in pain. Perhaps in time she could interact with whatever community surrounded her, perhaps working through the local clergy as Suzanne had encouraged her to do.