The Duke's Wager (23 page)

But had it repulsed her? he wondered. Last night, seeing her in Torquay’s arms, he had felt a rush of purely murderous rage. Seeing that grinning devil holding that lush body to his own, almost devouring her in his embrace, had sent the blood rushing to his head. It had been an obscenely complete embrace, it had filled him with envy.

But upon farther reflection, he remembered that she had not been struggling, not been crying out in alarm, but rather seemed rapt in his kiss. Perhaps Torquay had read her character better than he had. He had thought her uncommonly bright, uncommonly sensitive and shy. And had sternly repressed all his desires to kiss that incredibly pouting lip, to stroke that lovely form, because he had considered her, in some ridiculous way, a lady. He laughed to himself. Perhaps Torquay was right again, perhaps I half believed her to be the ‘Lady Berry’ I myself invented. But Torquay had shown him the light. She was obviously no lady, not sprung from her origins, and he had mistakenly treated her as if she were his social equal.

Still, now his hand had been forced by his rival, and he must put all his persuasiveness to the test. She trusted him, there he had the advantage of the Duke. She knew him better, there was another point in his favor, for had they not spent so many idle hours together? And he was younger, he did not have the reputation yet that Torquay had. It can be done, he assured himself, but he wished he did not have to be quite so precipitate. But then, he sighed, Torquay did call the tune.

She joined him quickly, and they walked to the dormant rose garden in back of the house. There, by a wintery frozen ornamental fish pond, he paused, and, looking about him to see if there was another being in the vicinity, he bade her to stand with him. Here, he thought, at least there is no one to overhear us. Although each word he spoke resulted in a little puff of smoke on the frosty air.

“Regina,” he said, giving her his full attention, looking down into the worried eyes, “it is now time for us to speak about your future.”

“You have heard from Miss Bekins?” she said hopefully, looking into his clear light gray eyes.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “not a word. But, there is a future before you separate from that good lady, Regina.”

“Well, yes,” she said doubtfully, “I do have an adequate education, Sinjin, but…no matter, if you have found me a position among your circle, I am sure it will be suitable. Please tell me about it.”

“Regina,” he said softly, “I fear you are not a very realistic young woman, for all your education. The sort of instructor that is required for young females in my circle is a young woman who can teach manners, and water colors, and etiquette, and…dance,” he emphasized. “Very few of my acquaintances require a governess who will instruct their young daughters in Latin, or Greek, or World History. It is not even a desirable course of study for a young female. I think, to be honest, Regina, you must give up the thought of governessing.”

“But then,” Regina said desperately, “I have been thinking, perhaps you know of an elderly lady who requires a companion….?”

“A companion,” he said with regret, “to discuss balls and routs, and the old days with? No, my dear, your interests would suit you to become a companion to a retired gentleman, or army officer, not a lady. For what genteel old woman would wish to spend the long evenings discussing the Roman Empire or politics? No, Regina, your upbringing has been so unorthodox, I fear, that it would be impossible to place you in such a position.”

She looked at him with despair, her green eyes, he thought suddenly, the only touch of color in the drab, winter garden.

“Then I shall have to find a place for myself,” she said stubbornly, lifting her chin. “And I shall not be a charge upon your hospitality any longer. No, no,” she said, brushing away his protests, “even my uncle would not have expected you to take charge of me forever. And enough time has passed, I have battened on you long enough.”

“You forget Torquay,” he said cruelly.

“No,” she said, “I do not. But I cannot make you responsible for my condition any longer. You owe me no further obligation, My Lord, your debt to my uncle has been paid. You have been a friend when I have needed one, but it has been but a stopover. I must travel onward now.” She turned to go, but he held her arm.

“Regina,” he said softly, “then forget my debt to your uncle, though I never can. Do you not know that I now have an interest in your fate which transcends that of mere obligation?”

She looked at him with amazement. He had been gallant to her in the past, but never outright in an loverlike fashion, but now his softened expression and warm look confused her.

“Oh, I know,” he said ruefully, “that I have played mock-uncle to you, been the soul of discretion in your presence, but do you think I have not noticed your face, your figure, your smiles and fears with more than an uncle’s interest? It was only that I did not wish to presume upon your distress. I did not want to add to your confusions. I am not, after all, a man such as Torquay. There is such a thing as consideration for the fact of your youth and ignorance. And what I have to say now may come as a surprise, but I cannot contain it any longer,”

She looked at him with growing astonishment. They had spent many long hours in each other’s company, and though she had wondered at times at some of his gallantries, she had never thought, or allowed herself to think of him, in the role of a lover. Their conversations had always been remote, and erudite and unemotional. He was, she thought irrelevantly, an exceedingly imposing and handsome man, but for some reason, none of his grace or charm of manner had ever touched upon her heart. It was difficult for her to think of him in the manner in which he now seemed to wish to be thought of.

“I only speak now,” he said, “because our time is so quickly running out. Soon my sister will return home for her confinement, Amelia must leave for her own establishment, and it would not do, you know, for you to remain behind here at Fairleigh with me, unchaperoned. There would then be talk that would be unpleasant for both your, and my own, reputation.

“Regina,” he said urgently, taking both her hands in his, “you do not know me too well yet, but you do know that your uncle both knew and trusted me. Indeed, he trusted me with his most precious possession…yourself. And I mean to continue to take care of you, for your own sake—not out of any debt of honor any longer—and for my own sake. For you delight my heart, Regina. I can speak with you with ease and intelligence, and, although I don’t wish to shock you, I find that I can even understand that…creature…Torquay’s desire for you as a woman. For you are very beautiful Regina, surely you know that. But you may not know how very much I desire both your mind…and your…womanly qualities.

“I ask you to give me the right to continue to look after you, for both your own and my sake,” he breathed, looking at her intently.

She found a breath to speak, shaking her head.

“But…but what about Amelia?”

“Amelia?” he said. “What about Amelia? She is an old friend, a very dear and old friend, what about her?”

“But,” Regina protested, “I thought she…and you…that is to say….”

“Oh, no,” he laughed. “Nothing of the sort, we are only old friends.”

Poor Amelia, thought Regina sadly, but seeing that Sinjin was waiting for her answer she said quickly, in a little low voice,

“But Sinjin, although I like you very well, I don’t, I cannot, oh dear, I am grateful to you, but I hardly really know you at all. And I know that I do not love you, Sinjin, no, not at all in the way one is supposed to.”

“That will come in time,” he said smoothly. “At least do you admit the possibility of its someday occurring?” he asked, growing impatient with her reluctance.

“I suppose,” she began, and found to her embarrassment that he was drawing her closer. “But Sinjin,” she protested, drawing back a little in his arms, “I have no family, no fortune, no background, and you are—”

“I am only a man,” he said, gazing at her. “And I want only a woman, not her background and history. I can protect you, Regina. I can give you comforts, security, and love. Can you not accept my offer, if only out of pity at first, and then allow other emotions to grow?”

Comfort, she thought, security, and love, and the flickering vision of that other mocking face with its offer of desire and entrapment rose before her. She looked into the strong face before her and thought, he is so good, indeed I don’t deserve such a good man, only a monster could refuse such a good man, and allowed him to draw her close.

She remembered to part her lips, as Torquay had insisted, and, feeling his mouth upon hers, she relaxed against him. But she was surprised to find no answering thrill, no seduction of her senses, only a peculiar sense of herself standing outside of his arms, watching the kiss that was transpiring between the elegant tall young man and the woman close in his arms, the woman who saw another face before her closed eyes and heard other laughter in her ears.

He is such a good man, she thought desperately, clinging to him now, trying to blot out the other face, as the chill wind cut at her.

He held her to himself and kissed her deeply, a growing sense of need overpowering him. God, he thought, she was a bewitching armful, if only he could take her somewhere and go farther, she was in such a yielding mood. He fumbled with the buttons on her pelisse as he held her, and insinuated his hand through the opening he had created to stroke at one of her warm breasts. She did not back away, and he cursed his luck at finding her this acquiescent in this location. He held her close and looked over her shoulder at the abandoned summerhouse. Too exposed there, and someone might happen by. He knew he could not take her into the house for any purpose, because Mary and Amelia were walking about in search of amusement. Lord, he thought, his hand caressing her awakening breast, what luck to have no place to carry her to now. He thought of the warm, straw-filled stables, and his spirits rose.

“Regina,” he whispered, his hand becoming bolder, holding tightly, taking care to breathe deeply into her ear, “come with me now.” She looked at him with surprise, she was having a hard time resolving the whirling train of her thoughts. He stared down at her with an avid expression, and she withdrew from him. He was about to take her back in his arms, when a slight movement of a white curtain in one of the lower windows of the house caught his attention. They had been observed. He wanted to curse, but only sighed heavily. “Forgive me,” he said, releasing her, “I lost my head, but you have made me very happy. I understand that you are agreed?”

She turned from him and hastily buttoned her coat securely. Her mind was in an upheaval. Why had she felt nothing? Nothing but perhaps a sense of shock when he had caressed her. When surely, she owed him so much, and he was so very kind. But how could he be so stiffly formal, and yet so ardent at the same time? And all while he was asking her to be his wife? But no, she thought, she was not a fool. He could give her protection from all the cold winds of this world and he could protect her both from the Duke and from herself. She nodded.

“Good,” he said briskly. “You understand, though,” he continued, “that you are to say nothing? I cannot wait to have you to myself, to avoid this subterfuge, this…slipping about. But now, you understand, it is necessary.”

She turned back to him, her eyes wide with amazement. “Say nothing?” she asked hesitantly.

He nodded. “We will simply tell them that your cousin found you a position in her house. You will leave, with appropriate farewells, in a hired coach, and then you can join me in London. I must go there at once,” he went on, half to himself, his mind seething with plans, “to make arrangements…suitable house for you…near to my own, suitable clothes, all the arrangements. I will settle an adequate sum on you, Regina, although I know you will want to spend it more on books than on jewels and gowns.…
”
He paused, looking at her. She stood, stock-still, staring at him with an incredulous expression on her face. And then she began to laugh.

Her laughter rang out across the frozen landscape and brought tears to her misted eyes. “Oh, forgive me,” she said, her voice curiously unsteady, caught between tears and laughter. “Oh, Sinjin, Torquay is right. I
am
a fool. A proper little fool.”

He did not like the tone of her voice and, glancing quickly toward the house to see if any within had heard her peal of unseemly laughter, he asked her harshly, “Where is the joke, Regina?”

“It’s a good one, I assure you,” she said seriously. “Sinjin, would you believe,” and she paused, realizing that for the first time she was speaking to him without that veneer of reserve and caution, speaking to him honestly and clearly, as she had spoken to Torquay, “that I thought, mind you, actually thought, that you were asking me to be your wife? Oh that is the cream of jests, isn’t it? The mongrel Miss Berryman, or the infamous Lady Berry, whichever you prefer, thought that that show of passion and sentiment was a declaration of intentions? From a peer of the realm to a little beggarmaid. Oh my goodness,” she said, wiping her eyes. “And then when you said I must say nothing, only then, mind you, only then did I understand. Why, you want me to be your mistress, Sinjin, just as Torquay does. Don’t you?”

“Not just as Torquay does,” he said tensely. “I really do admire you, Regina. I really do want only to be able to protect you.…
”

“Only to protect me?” she asked quietly. “Not to make love to me?”

“That goes hand in hand with love, Regina,” he said stiffly.

“Then where is the difference?” she asked.