An Escapade and an Engagement (10 page)

He broke out in a cold sweat. Suddenly it all made sense. When
some of his fellow officers had talked about falling in love they’d described
the same symptoms from which he was suffering. They’d said it made them blind to
the attractions of all other women. To think he’d scoffed at them, insisting all
cats were grey in the dark.

Well, he knew better now. He hadn’t seen it sneaking up on him,
but he’d been well and truly ambushed by the one emotion he’d never thought
would come into his life.

He’d gone and fallen in love with the most unsuitable,
unattainable woman in London.

He rather thought he must have groaned, because the shepherdess
looked up at him with concern.

‘You ain’t gonna cast up your accounts, are yer?’

He managed a strained smile. ‘I hope not. But just in case…’ He
pried her arms from about his neck. She readily took the hint, patting him on
the shoulder sympathetically before skipping off in search of a fresh
partner.

Goddammit. In spite of just saying Lady Jayne could go to hell
as far as he was concerned, he’d been lying to himself. He was the one in hell.
He turned to glare at the door through which she’d wafted with Kendell—only to
see the man himself come storming back into the ballroom with an ugly look on
his face.

But without Lady Jayne.

He waited for her to appear in his wake, and when she did not
he just knew something dreadful must have happened.

He pushed his way through the swirling crowd of dancers. He had
to find her. She was alone out there somewhere, and unprotected, at the kind of
event she should never have come to in the first place.

He’d barely got through the door when she ran full tilt into
him and, before he’d had a chance to identify himself, began lashing out at him
in a panic.

There was only one thing to be done. He picked her up, placing
one hand over her mouth to stifle her protests, and carried her into the
conservatory.

‘Hush,’ he said once he’d set her on her feet. ‘You’re safe
now. I’m here.’

She looked up at him then, but if anything her eyes grew even
more panicked.

‘Don’t you recognise me?’ he said softly, when it looked as
though she was desperately thinking of some way to dart past him.

Lady Jayne looked up at the face of the masked man who’d just
picked her up and hauled her into this darkened alcove with such ruthless
determination. When she’d tried to scream for help he’d put his hand over her
mouth. He hadn’t appeared even to notice when she’d kicked out at him with her
flimsy evening slippers. It had felt like trying to wrestle with a walking…oak
tree. What kind of a party was this? No wonder Lady Penrose had had second
thoughts about allowing her to come here. She must have known the kind of
disgraceful things that went on.

The oak tree had put her down eventually, but with her back to
the wall. And his shoulders were so broad they blocked her view of the rest of
the room. Though she already knew that the other occupants of the conservatory
were so intent on their own pleasure that they had not even noticed a struggling
nun being carried into the room by a…corsair! For that was what he looked like.
She could see now that he’d set her down. He wore a mask, and a red bandana over
his hair. He had a cutlass tucked into the belt that spanned narrow hips clad in
indecently tight breeches. His ruffled silk shirt was open to the waist, and a
pair of thigh-length sea boots completed the outfit. He took his hand from her
mouth the moment she stopped struggling. Not that she would yield to the rogue!
But he was so big and powerful she would never be able to escape him—except
perhaps by persuading him to let her go.

‘Lady Jayne…’

The gentleness of the voice saying her name pierced right
through her mounting panic. She looked properly into the eyes that were
regarding her through the slits in his black mask. They were grey. And full of
concern.

As they had been that night he’d wiped the tear from her
face.

‘L-Lord Ledbury?’ The rapid pounding of her heart steadied and
slowed when he nodded and took his arm from her waist. But thankfully he
remained exactly where he was. Shielding her from view.

Protecting her from possible exposure.

It was not some lecherous stranger, intent on making sport of
her. It was Lord Ledbury come to…to tell her off for behaving so badly, no
doubt. But, even so, she had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

‘I was so careful with my disguise,’ she began to excuse
herself. ‘How on earth did you recognise me?’

‘How did I recognise you?’ He shook his head ruefully. Her
image was imprinted on his brain. Though she was covered in the most
unflattering garment ever devised, she could not hide her height, or the shape
of her figure.

And her mask did not cover her mouth.

He dreamed about those lips. What they would taste like. How
they would feel pressed on various parts of his body.

‘Your mouth,’ he grated and, because he couldn’t help himself,
he reached out, meaning to trace the outline of those lush lips with the tips of
his fingers.

And that was when he saw the smear of blood, the cut, the
puffiness that spoke of a bruise already forming below the tender skin.

‘What the hell did he do to you?’ He had a pretty good idea.
He’d witnessed the fool trying to force himself on Lady Jayne in the park. And
it looked as if her reaction tonight must have been the same as then. It was one
thing for a girl of her age and sheltered background to indulge in romantic
dreams, but Kendell ought to have learnt that she wasn’t ready for unleashed
passion. ‘This is why I did not want you meeting him without me around. I would
never have let something like this happen to you.’

‘Y-yes, I know. It was all my own fault.’

She’d brought it on herself. And now Lord Ledbury was angry
with her, too. That he was also angry with Harry was of scant comfort. She could
not endure a lecture—not now. Not after Harry had turned into a stranger in the
blink of an eye. A frightening stranger who had torn down the romantic fantasies
she’d been weaving round herself, leaving her naked, bereft and bleeding.

‘B-but, please, d-don’t…’

‘Lady Jayne,’ he said, gently brushing something from her
cheek. ‘Don’t cry.’

‘I’m not crying. I n-never cry.’ She hiccupped.

‘Then he must have really hurt you,’ he said fiercely, ‘because
you most certainly are crying.’ Very gently he lifted her chin and examined her
lower lip, which was swelling rapidly round a jagged tear.

‘He w-wanted me to…’ She shook her head.

His blood ran cold. Had it been worse than ardour getting out
of hand?

‘But when I said I would not, he…’ Her face crumpled. ‘He was
just…it was…and now it is over…’

Then she flung her arms round his waist, and hid from the
questions in his eyes by burying her face in the solid warmth of his chest.

‘Just take me home,’ she sobbed. ‘Please take me home!’

* * *

It was over! He put his arms round her and rocked her
while she wept. Or were they rocking together? He hardly knew. He was sure of
only two things.

Kendell was out of the running.

And she was in his arms.

He felt as though he was being torn in two. Until now there
hadn’t been any choice. But now his body was pulling him one way, demanding he
abandon all aspirations to find a
suitable
wife and
commit to this woman, the only woman it wanted to possess. And to hell with all
his carefully laid plans. And the future he’d envisaged, with his glorious
countess at his side, helping him improve his estates and leaving such a legacy
that generations to come would speak in awe of the seventh Earl of Lavenham and
his redoubtable wife.

It was all he could do to prevent himself from blurting out
that she was better off without a no-hoper like Kendell. That he was ready to
take the fool’s place like a shot…

And then he was no longer in a dilemma. He simply couldn’t
imagine her looking up at him in dawning wonder and then them kissing and it all
ending happily ever after. His life had never resembled any kind of fairy story.
His reality was that she was only clinging to him because he happened to be
there, and she’d learned enough about him in their short acquaintance to know
she could trust him.

She only wanted one thing from him. She wanted him to take her
home.

Well, he could do that much for her.

It would mean letting her go, that was the trouble…

No, dammit, it wouldn’t! Keeping one arm round her shoulders,
he guided her into the hall, snagged a cloak from a footman who happened to be
passing with guests’ discarded outerwear and, wrapping it round her to shield
her from view, got her outside and into the first available hack he could
hail.

She did not object to any of it. On the contrary, she clung to
him throughout as though her life depended on it, weeping as though her heart
was broken.

It probably was. His mouth flattened into a grim line. Thank
heaven he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself by blurting out all that
nonsense about taking Kendell’s place. He’d had enough of standing in for some
other man since he’d come back to England. Besides, what good would it do her
for him to make a declaration he had no intention of following through? He might
be dazzled by Lady Jayne. He might want her so much he felt sick to think of her
in another man’s arms. But that didn’t mean he had any right to burden her with
the news.

Especially not when he hadn’t come to terms with it fully
himself.

No, what she needed right now was somebody she could just lean
on.

So when she slumped onto the seat of the hired hack, looking
utterly forlorn, he took the risk of putting his arms round her again. Far from
rebuking him, she burrowed into him again, clinging like a limpet while the
storm of sobs continued unabated.

He held her tight. Inhaled the scent of her hair. She smelled
like roses and honeysuckle. Every time he smelled a rose from this day forward
he would remember this moment and savour the memory of holding her delicious
curves against his body. He knew his dreams would grow even more vivid now that
he had reality to mingle with his fantasies. But he was willing to pay that
price. For who knew when he would ever get another opportunity like this? It was
not as if he was taking advantage of her moment of weakness. She was drawing
comfort from his embrace. And he was taking damn good care to make sure that
source of comfort did not become distasteful to her by not letting her suspect
exactly how her proximity affected him.

It was quite some time before she unwound her arms from his
waist, looked up, sniffed and asked, ‘Where is Milly?’

He cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand, marvelling at
her ability to think of another when she was in such distress.

‘Do not worry about Milly,’ he said gruffly. He could
cheerfully wring Milly’s neck. What had she been thinking, to aid and abet Lady
Jayne in meeting Kendell behind his back? But, since he wanted to soothe her
fears, he explained, ‘Milly is a daughter of the regiment. She is well used to
looking out for herself.’

Lady Jayne’s self-esteem shrivelled even further. She’d thought
Harry’s confession that he would not have bothered with her were she not rich
had been bad enough, but now Lord Ledbury was treating her as though she was as
fragile as porcelain, while having complete confidence in Milly’s ability to
look after herself.

In spite of being plain and poor, Milly had managed to capture
the heart of the man who was holding her in his arms—much against his
inclination, if the stiffness of his posture was anything to go by. She cringed
to think of how proud she had been to have influenced Milly’s dress sense. As if
that mattered. Lord Ledbury loved her just for being herself. Because Milly had
something about her that far outweighed her own rank and wealth.

But then, had not Harry just explained that there was
nothing
about her that could attract a man apart from
her money? She did not even know how to kiss properly!

She swiped at the tears dripping from her chin with the backs
of her hands. Why had she believed his lies in the first place? She’d always
known she was worthless. Her father had never let her forget that she had
disappointed him by not being a boy. He’d regarded her very existence as her
mother’s unforgivable crime. And then her grandfather had confirmed her worst
fears by taking one look at her, reeling in horror, and paying legions of
professionals to change her into something he would not find quite so
obnoxious.

The last thing anyone had ever wanted her to be was
herself.

And yet when Harry had told her all those lies about how much
he adored her she’d believed him. Why had she been so stupid?

Because she’d wanted
somebody
to
love her. Anybody. Even somebody whose regard she could not return.

And that was when she remembered that the whole point of
meeting Harry tonight had been to tell him that very fact. She didn’t love him.
She’d never loved him.

And then she realized that the only reason the things he’d said
had hurt her so badly was because they had struck directly at wounds she already
bore. She didn’t care what
he
thought of her. Not
one bit! Not now she knew what a lying, deceitful…
toad
he was. Fancy taking such ruthless advantage of an insecure
girl. Just to get his hands on her money.

And to think that for the last few weeks she’d been racked with
guilt over the prospect of hurting his feelings.

Well, she wasn’t going to waste one more moment feeling any
guilt whatsoever in regard to Harry Kendell. She was just glad she’d never
fallen completely under his spell, and that now she’d broken free.