The Belligerent Miss Boynton AND The Lurid Lady Lockport (Two Companion Full-Length Regency Novels) (23 page)

"Cool. For this time of year. Not too cool. But not hot."

"Indeed, yes, Mr. Chevington. How astute of you to notice. Is it so cool in London, sir?"

"Yes," Bo replied, and the two lapsed into silence as the first meat course was served.

"The beef is quite tasty, is it not, Mr. Chevington?"

"Yes. Tasty, that is."

"I do so admire Amanda's hand with decoration. The draperies in here are quite nice, don't you think?"

"Yes. Nice. Very nice."

"Do you stay long in the country, Mr. Chevington?"

"Yes. Long."

"Do you admire the country then, sir?"

"Yes. Admire it."

Any other young woman would have thrown up her hands in defeat, but then Anne Bosley was under terrific maternal pressure. Her mother had been harping on her all day about her lack of social presence, and she didn't wish for a repetition of that particular sermon on the morrow. Throwing caution to the winds she made one last try, although her mother had warned her never to discuss this particular interest of hers in masculine company. "Did you perhaps notice the
Dizygotheca elegantissima
in the library, Mr. Chevington? It is quite a fine specimen."

Bo was silent for so long the girl nearly slid out of her chair in embarrassment. Her mother was right; she was a hopeless nodcock. Her failure at polite conversation had been bad enough, but tagging on that bit about the
elegantissima
was striking the very depths. As her mother had said, she was destined to spend the remainder of her life being a supportive prop for her parents in their declining years.

Suddenly Bo, who had been studying Anne with some intensity, spoke. "Didn't see it. Did you spy out the
Brassaia actinophylia
in the blue room? Surprised to see it outside a greenhouse."

Anne's little heart-shaped face lit up in a smile capable of melting the strongest heart, and Bo was good and truly lost. They both rushed into speech at the same time, laughing and urging the other to go first, and in the end had to be called to attention twice by their host before either realized it was time for the ladies to retire from the table.

Bo watched as Anne left the room with the other women, and shyly waved to her as she turned at the door to look at him once more. As soon as possible he sped to the blue room, where the two quickly resumed their conversation concerning the possibilities of grafting two particular rose bushes.

Kevin, deliberately eavesdropping, rushed to Jared's side and whispered, "I don't wish to alarm you, friend, but Bo is spouting foreign words—him who has barely mastered the King's own. Do you think he's making untoward advances toward the little mouse?"

"I highly doubt it, Kevin, but what foreign words did you hear him speak? Were they French?"

"I truly don't know. It sounded like
Chlorophytum cosmo
-something, or
sampictura
-whatever, or some such drivel. Is that Latin? It sounded like Latin. Do you suppose he's asking her to see his etchings?"

Jared was well and truly puzzled. He called his wife over and asked Kevin to repeat himself, which he did, with even less success than in his first attempt. As he finished, a slight smile lit Amanda's face and she allowed her eyebrows to rise in shock. "Indeed, gentlemen, did I not tell you Bo was deeper than you knew? I believe that's Latin for 'your green eyes glow like stars.' And you said they wouldn't I hit it off!" She snapped her fingers in Jared's face as if saying, "That to you, husband," then tripped off to hide her grin in an effervescent exclamation over the beauty of Lady Close's new fan.

Out of the corner of his eye Jared saw Bo lead young Anne through the French doors, out into the garden. He nudged Kevin and brought his attention to their shy friend's new-found
savoir-faire
. "Never known Bo to steal a march on you, Kevin. There must be something in that chit you overlooked when you were introduced."

Kevin's forehead wrinkled as he realized his renown as an irresistible lady's-man was in jeopardy. He quickly scanned the room and singled out Lord Close's daughter Elizabeth as the least wretched of the group, and set out to redeem his reputation.

This left Jared to his own devices, as Lord Close and Squire Bosley and the other men were deep in a discussion of the proper time to manure their fields—a subject not close to Jared's heart at the moment—and the ladies were all in a group planning the best date for Amanda's next party and compiling a suitable guest list.

By the end of the evening Bo had promised to call on Miss Anne the following day to inspect her greenhouse, and Kevin was committed to driving out with Lady Elizabeth. That this suited Amanda was a foregone conclusion, and when Jared realized it would leave him alone with his wife he, too, applauded the arrangement, and so he told his wife later as they made their way to their bedchamber.

"I'm relieved to hear that, Jared, for I felt you might be bored to distraction here at Storm Haven. Are you sure you won't miss the social round if we remain in the country until after our child is born?"

Jared dismissed the waiting Sally with a wave of his hand and answered, "If I had my dearest wish I'd lock out the entire world for at least a year and spend all my time with you. As I've mentioned before, you affect me in many ways, imp, but boring me is definitely not one of them."

Amanda threw him a deliberately impish grin. "Indeed, my lord, and just how
do
I affect you?"

"You know damn well, you little vixen," Jared told her, hoping to tease her. "Now stop fiddling with that necklace and come here to me. You talk too much, when your place is in bed."

She dropped her hands from the intricate clasp and pouted. "It was you, not I, who sent Sally away. Besides—" she lifted her chin, "I don't believe I am yet sufficiently fatigued to retire. Perhaps I'll go down to the library and get a book. Yes, that's it. I'll read a book."

Jared grinned, more than willing to continue the game. "Amanda, I'm not a patient man. All evening you've been making cow eyes at me across the room, nearly driving me out of my mind. Now, come here, wife."

"Cow eyes!
Cow
eyes! Oh, how charming. And you, sir, must be casting yourself in the role of bull. How apt, for bull-headed you are in truth. Well, I refuse to come meekly to you when you crook your little finger. I languished here alone for three long months before you deigned to remember me. Now I would like to be courted, my lord, not ordered. Heaven knows I've had precious little of the former."

A slow grin appeared on Jared's face as he surveyed Amanda's pouting mouth, and he made her an elaborate bow. "Ah, my dear Lady Storm, forgive my boorish haste. First allow me to compliment you on your charming appearance this evening. I intend to write a sonnet tomorrow about your lustrous ebony curls, and the glorious golden jewels which are your eyes—not to mention the enchanting bloom of spring ever-present on your creamy cheeks..."

Those creamy cheeks were flushed now as Amanda retorted, "Don't make sport of me, Jared. I know I was flirting with you downstairs this evening in hopes of some light courting, but you're slicing your compliments a bit too thick and rare, as my father would say. Can you never be serious?"

He wagged a finger in her direction. "Of course I can. I can be eminently serious. Now, please don't interrupt me, madam, as I was not yet finished. Let me see, where was I? Oh, yes. I had finished with your hair, eyes, and complexion; now I must find a way to describe your pert little nose and that tempting mouth. Ah, I cannot think. Better to dedicate my sonnet to your most enchanting of all features: your bewitching breasts. I stared at them all the night long, most
seriously
—and if your gown had been but a bit lower, madam, I do believe I would have seen them peeping back at—" He broke off to dodge a china cup filled with hair-pins as it came flying by. "Oh, naughty puss, you'll be sorry for that."

"I am sorry—sorry I missed! Stand still so I can aim."

Jared advanced smilingly toward her, saying, "Put down the vial, Amanda. If you break that perfume we'll not be able to stay in this chamber for a month for the smell."

Amanda looked down at the bottle in her hand and silently agreed with him. But just as swiftly as she put down the vial she picked up her hairbrush, brandishing it as if ready to launch it at his head.

"That tears it, madam!" he declared, although he knew Amanda was certain he was teasing her. "Now you must be punished. Don't you remember my telling you at the inn that I would retaliate in future? Or perhaps you wish for another demonstration?"

"Ha! You'd have to catch me first!" Before Jared had time to move, Amanda was poised behind one huge bedpost, her hands lightly clasped around it as she prepared to lunge either right or left. As Jared committed himself, she jumped the other way, only to find herself caught between the wall and the bed.

"Zounds! Treed, by gad!" Jared exclaimed in triumph.

Amanda giggled and dove across the pillows, scrambling off the far side of the bed as her hair broke loose from its pins and cascaded down her back. As she stood on the other side of the bed, watching for his next move, Jared calmly began walking around the room as if she were not there, extinguishing all the candles until only the small fire in the hearth remained, for the large chamber could be chilly even in the heat of summer.

Amanda could barely see anything in the near-dark, but Jared was guided by the winking of her diamonds in the firelight and he stealthily circled the room until suddenly Amanda found herself attacked from behind.

She squealed, laughing as he lifted her as if she were weightless and gently deposited her on the hearthrug. "Oh, please, good sir," she pleaded dramatically, "be gentle with me. I am a mother now."

He knelt beside her and, as she watched he drew his brows together as if he were considering the matter. "A mother, is it? I see. Like all criminals of your kind, you plead your belly."

"Guilty, my lord." The firelight cast a rosy glow on Amanda's bare shoulders and sent small lights dancing in her riotous curls as she settled herself into the soft fur of the hearthrug and allowed the tip of her tongue to lick her upper lip. She never took her eyes from those of her husband, and her heart sang at the sight of the naked longing apparent in every line of his face. Slowly she raised her bare arms to pull him down to her as she whispered, "Court me, Jared. Woo me, please."

"Oh, sweet Christ. You plague a man out of his mind," he muttered as their lips met in a hunger not to be denied. The chase over, the teasing antagonists became lovers, as fierce in their lovemaking as they had been half-hearted in their disagreement. Mouths clung as bodies intertwined, hands struggled with cumbersome clothing as burning limbs strained to be released.

"Damned fashions," Jared cursed as he met with yet another intricate feminine fastening. With one swift pull gown and chemise were rent to the waist, and moments later two bodies joined in a frantic coupling that left them both gasping for breath.

Fighting the urge to sleep just where she lay, Amanda rose to her feet and surveyed the damage the two of them had wrought.

"Oh, Jared, look what you've done! My beautiful new gown is ruined beyond repair, and it just arrived from London a week ago. How will I ever explain this to Sally?"

Suddenly she left off complaining and broke into giggles. Could this be her husband—this adorably disheveled fallen angel who sat on the rug with his breeches hanging about his ankles and his shirt and neckcloth twisted halfway round his neck? "And look at you," she exclaimed, "the fashionable Lord Storm. Is this to be a new rage, my lord?"

"Look to yourself, imp, sporting nothing but your diamonds and one satin slipper." He paused a moment and his voice was low as he added, "Yes, my fine lovely wife, just look at you. With your curls caressing your rosy skin, your tawny eyes shining brighter than any jewel. You're my own pocket Venus, Amanda."

He kicked away the last of his clothing and reached out his hand to grasp hers. "Come, goddess, let us retire to our cloud where we can touch the stars at our leisure."

Amanda complied with a smile, saying, "Why, Jared, I do believe you're courting me. I think I like being courted. Yes, I definitely do."

#

The summer slipped away quite pleasantly as the guests at Storm Haven extended their stay from three weeks to nearly six. The foremost reason for this was the blossoming romance between Bo and Anne. The pair, much to the displeasure of Jared's possessive gardener, spent endless hours in the gardens at Storm Haven, discussing the local flora and perhaps one or two other subjects.

Kevin, however, was becoming restless. The Lady Elizabeth was, in his words, a damnable leech, and he had no intention of being made her tame pet. Lately he had been making noises about returning to London and Amanda knew that Bo would feel bound to accompany him. This Amanda could not allow, at least not until Bo worked up his courage sufficiently to approach Squire Bosley for Anne's hand.

To this end, she was now planning another small dinner party, putting her well over Jared's expressed limits. This time she invited only the Squire and his family, cajoling Kevin into allowing himself to be invited to dine at the residence of Lord Close. Lady Chezwick deemed this an optimistic move on Amanda's part, but one that she herself considered a bit short of the mark.

"Compromise 'em, I say," she told Amanda the afternoon of the party. "That fool boy will never speak up. Don't think he's capable of it, to tell the truth. Anyone with half a brain in his head can see they're bosky over each other. Why, the fool near drools when little Anne comes into a room—and she, poor misguided soul, thinks the lad hangs out the stars. I commend you, Amanda. You and Jared are obviously devoted, I thank God, but you seem to have learned to control yourselves in public."

Amanda disregarded her aunt's questionable compliment concerning her own behavior and instead concentrated on Lady Chezwick's first recommendation. "Compromise them, dear lady? Do you mean to surprise them in a passionate embrace one night in the gardens? If so, I fear you're overly romantic. Jared and I were taking a stroll through the greenhouse the other evening and Bo and Anne were over in a corner with their heads together. Needless to say, we thought we'd interrupted a proposal. But as we approached—there was no sense in pretending we were unaware of their presence—they stepped back and there between them was a wilting fern they had been transplanting. Compromise them? Oh, I doubt that, Aunt."