A Kiss In The Dark (40 page)

He smiled and bent over to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. It had her lungs seizing. “I said I love you.”

This has to be a dream
, she thought wildly. He couldn’t be telling her he loved her.

“Please,” she choked out, tugging her hand from his and scooting further up on the pillows. “Please don’t tell me that just because you’re grateful.”

“Oh, I’m grateful.” He recaptured her hand, tightening his grip when she tried to free herself. “You saved my life, Deirdre. Threw yourself in front of a knife for me. Something, by the way, you are not to do again. But that’s not why I love you.”

Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers, as if to ensure he had her undivided attention. “I love you because you are kind and generous and unselfish. Because you give everything of yourself without ever expecting anything in return, and because you love the people of Tothill Fields, even the ones who are difficult to love.”

In a move that had her shivering, he traced the line of her nose with his lips, kissing each tiny freckle before moving on to the shell of her ear. “I love you because you agreed to help me, even knowing that you could be running the risk of Barnaby finding you. Because you put up with me and my black moods, even when I was being my most stubborn.”

Lying back on the pillows next to her, he lifted a hand to trace her lips with a finger, one corner of his mouth tilting upward at the shivery moan that escaped her. “I love you because you gave me your sweet body, because you trusted me enough to let me be the first. And—I hope—the last.”

She started to speak, but he halted her with the butterfly brush of a kiss against her lips. “But most of all, I love you because you believe I’m someone worth loving.”

At a loss, she gazed up at him, unable to speak. How was it possible that everything she’d dreamed of seemed to finally be within her grasp?

“I’m waiting.”

His statement caught her off guard. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I told you I love you. It would be nice to hear it from you, as well.”

She felt her cheeks heat at his teasing tone. “You must know how I feel. I haven’t been very good at hiding it.”

“It would be nice to hear it, all the same.” Though his smile remained, there was enough seriousness in his words to let her know he meant them.

Touching his face with a trembling hand, she battled back sudden tears of happiness. “I love you, Lord Ellington. I think I have ever since I first saw you in that alleyway all those years ago.”

Pure, unfettered emotion shone in his eyes before he took her lips with his in a tender, reverent kiss. When he drew away, she was breathless and aching.

And unable to hide her sudden exhaustion.

He chuckled at her attempt to stifle a yawn. “You’re tired, young lady.” Pulling her blankets up, he tucked them snugly under her chin. “Go to sleep.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Settling down next to her, he enfolded her in the warm strength of his arms. “You need to get some rest.”

“Well, maybe I will close my eyes for a while.” Drained from her injury and the events of the day, she felt herself drifting off, but not before she heard Tristan’s voice in her ear.

“I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Deirdre was in the sitting room three days later, playing a game of chess with Emily, when a sudden commotion from out in the entry hall had them both looking up in alarm.

It was the first day that Deirdre had been allowed out of bed since her near-fatal brush with Barnaby’s knife. After carrying her downstairs early this morning and placing her on the sofa with firm instructions that she was not to move for any reason, Tristan had retreated to his study to take care of some long-neglected business matters, leaving his sister to keep her company. That had been no hardship for Deirdre, since Emily was an entertaining companion, and the two of them had been quite enjoying themselves when they were startled by the sound of a strident female voice, followed by the calmer tones of Archer.

A second later, the door suddenly burst open to reveal a plump, elegantly attired lady with iron-gray hair and a waspish expression.

The butler appeared at her elbow, his mouth pinched with concern. “I’m sorry, Lady Rotherby. I was going to announce her, but—”

“Nonsense, man!” the woman blustered. “You don’t need to announce me in the home of my very own nephew!”

Deirdre felt all the blood drain into her toes as she realized who stood before her. Good Lord, it was Tristan’s aunt, the Dragon Lady!

Clearing her throat, Deirdre gave Archer an understanding look. “It’s all right, Archer. Thank you.”

The butler looked unconvinced, but he nodded and disappeared from view.

The Marchioness of Overton let her haughty gaze travel about the room once before her frosty blue eyes settled on Deirdre with clear disapproval. “You,” she said, rather contemptuously. “You’re that Rotherby creature.”

Feeling at a distinct disadvantage lying on the sofa, Deirdre swung her legs about and pushed herself to a sitting position, ignoring the pain that streaked through her back as the movement pulled at her stitches. She glanced at Emily, but there would be no help from that quarter. The girl was staring at her aunt with a dazed expression, her mouth hanging open.

“Yes, I’m Lady Rotherby,” Deirdre replied in as polite a tone as she could muster. “And you must be Lady Overton. Forgive me if I don’t rise to greet you, but—”

“So, it’s true.” As if Deirdre’s words were unimportant, Lady Overton spoke right over the top of her. “When I received Elmira’s note, I couldn’t believe it. But she was right, after all.”

“Right about what?”

Deirdre couldn’t restrain a soft sigh of relief when Tristan suddenly appeared in the doorway that connected the sitting room to his study. Looking handsome and elegant in a snug-fitting coat of bright blue superfine and dark breeches, he strode into the chamber with an almost nonchalant air, seeming not at all bothered by his aunt’s unexpected appearance.

“Hello, Aunt Rue.” He paused to brush a kiss against the marchioness’s cheek before crossing to lean against the arm of the sofa next to Deirdre, his presence at her side bolstering her courage.

“Precisely what was Lady Maplethorpe right about?” he asked, one eyebrow winging upward inquiringly. “I’m curious.”

Lady Overton pursed her lips and studied her nephew with narrowed eyes. “Her most recent letter informed me that not only had you managed to lose yet another governess but apparently you’ve been seen in the company of some rather nefarious-looking individuals several times in the past week. In fact, they’ve been noticed coming and going from this town house at all hours of the day and night.”

Deirdre bit her lip. That was her fault. She’d had several visitors in the last few days. Among them had been the Rag-Tags, Lilah, and even Dan, who had surprised her by turning down any payment for his services and who had departed with a gruff promise to stay in touch. Cullen had even taken up residence in the lower servants’ quarters, refusing to leave his mistress’s side for more than a few hours at a time.

The marchioness was still speaking, her words growing colder as her gaze settled on Deirdre once again. “She also mentioned that there have been numerous whispers of your association with a well-known widow of questionable reputation. And I arrive to find that not only is it true, but you’ve ensconced her in your own home where she can exert her tawdry influence over your impressionable young sister!” She shook her head. “Thank goodness the Season is over and most of the more influential members of the
ton
have already departed for the country. I shudder to think what they would make of all this.”

Tristan shrugged carelessly and draped an arm over the back of the sofa, surrounding Deirdre with a feeling of warmth and comfort despite his aunt’s venomous words. “Forgive me for saying so, but I find I care very little.”

“D-don’t care?” Lady Overton sputtered, her complexion going crimson with outrage. “How can you not? These are the people you will have to associate with if you want Emily to have any sort of acceptable future, and you will never cull their favor by consorting with this … this—”

Tristan’s brow lowered and he leaned forward, holding his aunt’s eyes with his own. “Be very, very careful what you say about Lady Rotherby, Aunt Rue,” he warned, his tone dangerously soft. “You’re speaking of the woman I’m going to marry.”

Deirdre froze, her heart jumping into her throat as she looked from Tristan, to his aunt, and back again. Good Lord, was he serious? They’d never discussed any such thing, but his expression was utterly solemn.

The marchioness looked ready to have an apoplexy. Sputtering and fanning herself with her reticule, she took a step toward her nephew. “Marry? But—but—you can’t do that!”

“I assure you I can, and I plan on doing so at the first possible opportunity.”

“Tristan—” Dierdre began, but once again the marchioness interrupted her.

“Disgraceful! Obviously, I have arrived none too soon. I knew it was a mistake to leave my niece in your care. Why, Sinclair must be turning over in his grave right now.”

“I’m sorry you think so, Aunt.”

“I have given you every concession,” she stormed, beginning to pace in front of them. “I realize that you’ve spent most of your adult life roaming the countryside, running from your responsibilities, and that you have very little idea of how one behaves in polite society, but this is beyond enough. I cannot in all good conscience leave Emily here to suffer your inadequacies as a guardian.”

Tristan inclined his head stiffly. “I appreciate your concern, but I have to wonder. Where was it when my father was out carousing at his clubs until all hours, gambling and drinking instead of caring for his daughter?”

Lady Overton halted and drew herself up in indignation. “How dare you?”

“I dare because it is true. And if you think I’m going to allow you to take my sister from this house, you are sadly mistaken.”

Deirdre exchanged a joyful look with Emily. Tristan had never discussed with her again his belief that his sister would be better off with his aunt, but until this moment she had been uncertain whether he’d changed his mind about it.

“Well, we’ll just see about that,” Lady Overton huffed. “Your uncle wields quite a bit of influence here in London, and once I go home and tell him—”

“No!”

All eyes went to Emily, who had suddenly launched herself from her chair and stood with hands clenched at her sides, practically trembling with the force of her emotions.

The marchioness leveled a chilly stare at her niece. “What was that, miss?”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Rue, but I said no. And I don’t care what society thinks.” Emily lifted her chin in defiance. “I won’t leave Tristan. I know you’re worried about me, and I thank you for that, but you have to understand. He was gone for so many years, and we’re just now starting to get to know each other. I won’t let you take me away from him.”

A deathly quiet settled over the room, and for a long moment no one said a word. Then Lady Overton straightened her shoulders and glared at her niece and nephew.

“I must say, I’m shocked. This is the thanks I get after everything I’ve done?” She sniffed. “Fine. I wash my hands of both of you. Mark my words, however. Sooner or later you’ll realize this was a mistake, but by then it will be too late.”

With that, she turned on her heel and marched out the door, head held high.

After a second of stunned silence, Emily laughed and raced across the chamber to fling herself into her brother’s arms. “Tristan, you were brilliant!”

He looked down at her with the light of affection in his eyes. “You were quite brilliant yourself.”

Deirdre smiled at them both. It was so good to see them like this. They still had quite a way to go as far as their relationship was concerned, but she was certain that sister and brother would soon be closer than ever.

“Did you mean it?” Emily asked, stepping back to search Tristan’s expression hopefully. “Are you really going to marry Lady Rotherby?”

He turned a look on Deirdre that stole her breath. “If she’ll have me.”

His sister gave a delighted squeal and whirled in a circle before dancing over to hug Deirdre. “I must go tell the Rag-Tags at once! They’ll be so happy! May I?”

Tristan nodded his consent. “Just be sure to take Cullen with you.”

She started for the door, but Deirdre had noticed something in the girl’s manner. Something that had her calling out her name.

“Oh, Emily?”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you try returning your brother’s wallet before you go?”

One corner of Emily’s mouth tilted downward in disappointment. “I was only practicing,” she muttered, coming back to hand the pilfered object to Tristan.

He frowned in consternation as he tucked it back into his pocket. “Well, if you ask me, you’ve had entirely too much practice already.”

Deirdre reached up to lay a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Be careful, dear, and don’t forget to take the new book you got for Benji.” She paused, then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And say hello to Peter for me.”

Emily blushed a fiery red before departing the room.