Accidentally in Love (8 page)

“Am I ensnared?” Lord Raithby said, looking at Emeline with an amused expression. “I do not feel ensnared.”

“But of course you don’t,” Sophia said, smiling conspiratorially at Emeline, and Emeline had no idea why. “The very best snares are never felt until the last possible moment, Lord Raithby. Now, that is my very last bit of counsel for you. From now on, you must proceed on your own wits. ‘Tis only fair, after all. The entire Town is well aware that Miss Harlow is doing very well on hers.”

Mama made a noise of outrage. It was muffled by a wide swath of silk being wrapped around the brim of her hat by Madame.

“But what happened to the footman, Lady Eleanor?” Sophia said.

“Ben Skrewd,” Eleanor said. “He’s been sacked.”

“Ben Skrewd?” Sophia said. “What an unfortunate name. If he requires a reference, I shall supply him one. Footman who are bold enough to do what he did can often be very useful.”

Emeline had never heard anything so revolutionary in her life.

“What of the gentleman? The one who knocked down the painting, shattered the frame, and ripped the wall covering to shreds?” Sophia said.

“Mr. Christopher Culley,” Raithby said. “We are acquainted.”

Not well acquainted. Not friends. How quickly things changed in only hours.

“Pardon me, Lady Dalby,” Emeline said, “but the painting did not fall and the wall was not ruined.”

“Only a small section of wallcovering was ripped,” Eleanor added, looking entirely too happy about it.

“Ah,” Sophia said, “well, it is to be expected that the rumor is so much more delicious than the facts. It’s why I love rumor so very well. Don’t you, Miss Harlow?”

“I have never given the matter much thought, Lady Dalby,” Emeline said.

“Haven’t you?” Sophia said, looking Emeline up and down with more obviousness that was in good taste, at least in Wiltshire. “You are young yet, though. I suppose it must be forgiven.”

Emeline had no idea for what she was being forgiven. She was completely at sea. In fact, she had never wanted to be back in Wiltshire so much before. Having a London Season was not at all what she had expected.

And if Kit were returning to Wiltshire, why shouldn’t she? London was useless without him.

The door banged open and there stood Kit. He looked at her, at Raithby, at her again, his gaze sliding over Sophia Dalby and Eleanor Kirkland with hardly a ripple of awareness, and then he strode over to them.

He was not dressed at all well. His cravat was loose, his linen was not fresh, his shoes wanted polish, and his hair was windblown. He was so much more handsome to her than Lord Raithby that she could hardly draw breath.

“Raithby,” he said with a crisp bow. “I had not thought to find you here.”

“I hardly thought to be here myself,” Raithby said. “May I introduce you to Lady Dalby?”

Raithby spoke the words. Kit bowed. Lady Dalby smiled. Eleanor giggled. Mama made another muffled noise.

“I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Culley,” Sophia said. “You are the man of the hour in Town. ‘Tis a rare honor to have achieved so much in so little time.”

“Thank you,” he said, which hardly made sense. He continued to stare at Emeline, his eyes melting and burning at once.

“The footman has been let go, Mr. Culley,” Eleanor said. “No one at Melverley House holds you responsible. Quite the contrary.”

“Thank you,” Kit said again, his eyes never leaving hers. It was growing quite awkward. He really should know better, and behave better, especially in front of lords and ladies.

“I should think you could be more gracious than that,” Emeline said to him. “With the backing of Lord Melverley, you won’t have to leave Town.”

“I am not leaving Town,” Kit said, his dark blue eyes boring into hers, looking as if he wanted to read her thoughts.

“How delightful,” Sophia said. “I’m certain you shall add so much to this Season, Mr. Culley. Strong, decisive men of resolute action are sadly lacking in Town.”

Lord Raithby did not so much as wince at the implied insult. Likely because he was not known for being a man about Town.

“If you will excuse us,” Kit said, “I must speak privately with Miss Harlow.”

“Of course,” Eleanor said, her smile quite impish.

“Poor Lord Raithby,” Sophia said, “and it was my only wish that you achieve your dearest desire. You were, I fear, too late to the post. Consider it a lesson learned, darling Raithby.”

Emeline, as usual, had no idea what Lady Dalby was talking about. Not even when she leaned closer to whisper, “Well done, darling. You have him in the palm of your hand.”

She had whom? She did not know, nor did she very much care. All her attention was trained on Kit.

Kit looked down at her and she looked up at him expectantly.

“Well?” she said.

“I’m not leaving Town.”

“I heard. What is so private about that?”

Kit continued to stare at her. It made her feel tingly, almost itchy in places. Uncomfortable places.

“You were very rude to Lady Eleanor,” she said, trying to diffuse the moment, “and she was so very thoughtful of you. And I can’t imagine what harm you did to yourself with Lady Dalby just now. She’s very powerful, you know. How you expect to thrive in Town if you continue on as you are doing---”

He stopped her with a kiss. It was such a kiss. It was the kiss she had dreamed of at night, alone in her soft bed. It was not at all like the kiss she had playacted, using a full-blown rose as a substitute for Kit’s mouth. Kit’s mouth was nothing like a flower. Kit’s mouth was a fire lighting her up, a wave sweeping her away, a cloud lifting her to the sky. Kit’s mouth, Kit’s breath, Kit’s tongue, Kit’s heat and height and breadth and scent enveloped her and encompassed her and carried her away.

And when he stopped, when he lifted his head and stared down into her eyes with his Greek god perfection, he whispered, “I didn’t know I was in love with you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You love me?” she breathed.

“Of course,” he said, holding her in his arms, kissing her brow, her cheek, her lips. “I’ve been in love with you all my life. Didn’t you know?”

“No, not actually,” she said, leaning into him, the warm, familiar scent of him. “I hardly dared hope. It took you quite a long time to realize it.”

He lifted his head, tucking her into him, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I know now.”

“Aren’t you at all curious as to whether I love you?” she said, leaning back to gaze at him.

Her eyes went to where Mama stood. She was being chatted up by Lady Dalby, and by the look of it, Lady Dalby was doing a splendid job of it. Lord Raithby looked at her and smiled, cocking his hat at Kit. Eleanor simply smiled a beaming, glowing smile, and Emeline had the odd thought that perhaps Eleanor Kirkland had plotted this somehow. But how could she have?

“Of course you love me,” Kit said. “How could this work if you did not? You have loved me and have been waiting for me to realize that, somehow along the way, entirely by accident, I was in love with you.”

“By accident?” she said. “That has a horrible sound to it. And I don’t like the way you make it sound that I have loved you for longer than you have loved me.”

“I didn’t think you’d care for that,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

“You have loved me for just as long as I have loved you. I was there. I should know what happened.”

“I accept,” he said, turning her so that her arm was tucked into his and they were walking across the shop to Mama.

“You accept? What do you accept?” she said.

“That we have loved each other from the first moment we met, that we were destined to love, that we shall live together in marital bliss in Wiltshire for as long as we live, and that you will rule my heart and my life as you always have done.”

She stood in front of Mama and did not notice. She stood in Kit’s arms with Kit’s vow ringing in her ears and through her heart.

“Always?” she said.

“Always,” he promised.

Emeline was never certain exactly how it happened, but Mama and Mrs. Culley were both warmly enthusiastic about their children marrying each other and not, as they had both planned for a lifetime, into the peerage.

The marriage took place in late September of the year of Emeline’s London come-out. Lady Eleanor Kirkland, Lord Raithby, and Lady Sophia Dalby were invited. They declined. Mama was crushed that she could not dangle the highest fruit of the aristocracy over her neighbor’s heads, but she carried on.

“I still can’t puzzle out why our mothers have been so blissful about the whole thing,” Emeline said, entwined with Kit on their bed, the sheets warm and soft, the morning sunlight casting the room in a golden haze, birdsong surrounding them.

Kit ran his hand up her skin from her hip to her ribs, and back down, and back up, lazily tracing her curves, nuzzling her hair, absorbing her into his very skin, it seemed.

“What could they say?” he said. “Close friends, neighbors, our lives knitted together by a hundred threads. Is your mother going to say to mine that I am not good enough for her daughter? Will my mother say a similar thing to yours? It was an impossible situation for them.”

“How thankful I am for that,” she said, sighing.

She buried her face in his chest, reaching up to run her hands through his long hair, running her fingertips down the planes of his face. His sharply defined aristocratic face.

“You are not sorry you did not marry Raithby?” he said.

She laughed. “Lord Raithby was never mine for the asking.”

“How could you know? You never asked.”

She inched up the length of him, drinking in his scent, the feel of his skin and hair, the rumble of his beautiful voice, and when she was nose to nose with him, when she had his beloved face cupped in her hands, she said, “Why should I want an English lord when a Greek god was mine for the asking?”

Kit kissed her hard, pulling her beneath him, pressing her down into the middle of their bed. “A Greek god, am I?” he said, when he lifted his head, grinning down at her. “Which god, may I ask?”

She pushed him off of her and scooted to the edge of the bed, her hair hanging down her back. Kit had told her just before their wedding that he could not describe her hair, that he did not know the name of its color. After an afternoon lying on a blanket beneath the tree where she had once taken a fall as a child, a fall in which Kit had rescued her, he had proclaimed the color of her hair to be honey in the comb.

Honey in the comb. How she liked that.

He pulled her hair and asked again, “Which god?”

“Is there a Greek god for stupidity? That one,” she said.

He pulled her back into bed by her honey comb hair, kissing her throat, her breasts, her face, her shoulders. At first she laughed. And then she sighed. And then, as always, she moaned.

“Eros,” she said, pulling his face down to hers for a long, slow kiss. “Definitely Eros.”

***

This is a
More Courtesan Chronicles
novella. See the complete list of
Courtesan
titles at www.claudiadain.com

To read about Lord Raithby’s story, look for
Taming Miss Grey
, book two in this series.

Miss Elaine Montford’s romance is told in the novella
Chasing Miss Montford
.

Much Ado About Dutton
is book one in the
More Courtesan Chronicles
series.

The Red Door Reads ‘Who’s Ben Skrewd?’ Novellas

What do you call eleven books ranging the gamut of romance, from Regency Historical to Contemporary, to Paranormal, Urban Fantasy and beyond, all releasing on April 15, 2014 (tax day!) and each featuring a Red Door and a mysterious figure named Ben Skrewd?

You call it a novella series like no other, all from the fabulous writers at Red Door Reads!

Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness
by Deb Marlowe

A Half Moon House Series Novella

Hexed
by Andris Bear

A Deadly Sins Novella

Dances with Demons
by Lori Handeland

A Phoenix Chronicles Novella

Firebird
by Linda Winstead Jones

A Columbyana Novella

In the Stars
by Ava Stone

A Regency Encounter Novella

Her Muse, Lord Patrick
by Jane Charles

A Muses Novella

Cross Springs In Bloom
by Caren Crane

A Cross Springs Novella

The Earl’s Passionate Plot
by Susan Gee Heino

Touch of Trouble
by Susan Sey

A Blake Brothers Novella

Reagan’s Revenge
by Tammy Falkner

A Reed Brothers Novella

Accidentally in Love
by Claudia Dain

A More Courtesan Chronicles Novella

You can find them all at
http://www.RedDoorReads.com