The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance (16 page)

He paused for a second and eyed her, an astonished respect in his gaze. “But Napoleon is faced with the same problem. He called for Spanish recruits last month and the bloody Spaniards raced for the hills rather than be conscripted.”

“And yet there are eighty thousand Frenchmen who have been conscripted, and another forty thousand in the waiting. And how many able men are in America? We are but one island.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

Her knight scratched his chin. “But there are the Spaniards who are joining our troops in Majorca — they will fight at our side.”

“Yes, in Spain, but not in New York, or Maryland, or the Carolinas. Will they defend our hold in Canada?”

He grunted and paced in front of her.

“Bonaparte knew exactly what he was doing when he gave the Floridas to the Americans, and stirred their wrath against our Navy — as well deserved as it is.”

“So you would criticize the might of the Royal Navy, you bold minx?”

She nodded emphatically. “When they anger a sleeping bear, yes. Not one of those captains thinks of the consequences of taking a single American ship, but what will they do when that country’s Congress acts? When that country begins to build ships?
Fleets of ships.
They have a continent of forests. They can build frigates for the next hundred years — and man them. Can we?”

He threw up his hands and strode away a few steps. “I can’t believe I am arguing this with a lady!”

“And being bested,” she pointed out.

“Routed!” he declared. “Your mother was entirely correct — you are unmanageable.”

Ella didn’t feel the least bit insulted. “I daresay, you don’t mind.”

This gave him pause and then he grinned. “No, I actually don’t. But if you tell anyone I’ve conceded—”

She shook her head and crossed her fingers over her heart. “Never! I swear.”

“It shall be our secret,” he told her, moving closer again. As he passed an orange tree, he reached and plucked a blossom from the branch and handed it to her. For a moment all Ella could do was gaze down at the delicate blossom cradled in her hand, for she didn’t dare look up at him.

“Does your father still read you military tracts?” he asked.

She shook her head. “My parents are both gone.”

He paused and gazed at her. “I am so sorry. You have sisters?”

“No, I am … I am all alone now.”

“Not any longer,” he told her, taking her hand and leading her down the long aisle.

The conservatory was glassed on three sides, running the length of the garden wall. A stove provided extra heat and lamps overhead illuminated the wild, exotic collection of plants flourishing in the artificial tropics. As they drew closer to the middle, the intoxicating scent of oranges in bloom curled around her, enticed her to come closer and inhale … deeply.

“It is just like our garden in Portugal,” she told him, reaching out to touch the narrow leaf of a palm.

“You lived in Portugal?”

“Yes. Though not always. I was born in the West Indies. Then my father’s regiment was sent to Portugal.”

“I imagine you find London quite different.”

She laughed. “I find London ever so cold.”

They both laughed.

“Is it still a cold place?” he asked, drawing her into his arms.

“No,” she said, shivering, and definitely not from London’s notorious chill.

His hands, firm and warm, pulled her closer, until she was nestled right up against his chest. Her hands splayed over his surcoat, and marvelled at the hard plains beneath.

Like a Templar reborn.

“I don’t even know your name,” he whispered as he lowered his head, drew his lips closer to hers.

“Does it matter?” she whispered.

“No. Not really,” he said, his breath warm on her lips. And then that breath became his lips, covering hers and stealing a kiss.

Ella didn’t know what to expect, but this … this invasion … this breach of her defences, left her breathless. His tongue sallied over her lips, teased her to open the gates, to let him storm forth. Everything she knew about defences gave way to his very expert onslaught.

Besides, how was she not to let him in, when he was creating this breathless storm inside her?

Desire, new and exhilarating, raced through her, as his hands held her even closer, began to explore her, running down her sides, curving around her backside.

Ella was starting to burn.

His kiss deepened and, instead of being frightened — as she supposed she should be, as she ought to be — she welcomed him, drawing him closer, her arms winding around his neck.

She had to hold him like that, for her knees, her legs, her insides, had become ever so unreliable, quaking with need, with desires, leaving her shaky and unsettled … and eager for more.

He drew back from her, lips parted for a moment, and gazed at her, a wonder in his eyes that startled her. For even in her innocence, she knew this was different. This wasn’t what he had expected.

Or had he known all along, just as they had found themselves drawn to each other in the middle of the ballroom?

“Ahem,” came a polite cough from the doorway of the conservatory, breaking into their intimate moment of wonderment. “Sir?”

Her knight looked up. “Yes?”

“You are required inside,” the fellow said, staring down at the floor.

“Yes, thank you, Shifton.”

The man bowed and left.

“I must—” he said, waving at the door. “But only for a little bit,” he added hastily.

“Yes, I understand,” she said. “I think I should go to the retiring room and put myself in order.”

“I will only undo it later,” he told her, leaning over and kissing her brow tenderly. Ella should have realized then, it was actually a promise.

Ella rushed into the empty retiring room, her cheeks completely flushed and her heart hammering.
Whatever is happening to me?

She was falling in love. Oh, and it was perfect and delicious and wonderful. She hugged herself and spun around, only to come to a complete stop when she realized she wasn’t alone.

For there in a chair in the corner sat an elderly matron.

“Oh, I didn’t know—” Ella stammered, glancing towards the door and then around the room.

The lady’s gaze narrowed and then she rose and crossed the room. As she got closer, Ella’s eyes widened in recognition. “Mrs Garraway!”

“Ella Cynders, oh, my dear!” The lady took Ella into her arms and hugged her tight. “You wicked, wicked girl! You don’t know how I have worried after you. And here you are.” Mrs Garraway held her out at arm’s length and examined her, smiling widely.

“How is the Colonel?” Ella asked, as she took off her mask to get a better look at her mother’s dear friend. Colonel Garraway had been her father’s commanding officer, and Ella and her mother had spent countless hours with Mrs Garraway, sewing and gossiping and keeping each other company in Portugal.

That is until Ella’s parents had died, and Ella had been sent home to live with an aunt. But unbeknownst to the kindly Garraways, the lady had also recently died, leaving Ella without friend, family or a home. That was how she had ended up as Lady Pamela’s paid companion.

“He’s just the same, always in a fine fettle over something. But won’t he be ever so happy to see you. We’ve been so worried, for when we got to London and discovered that your aunt had passed away and there wasn’t a word of you, I feared the worst. But I see I was worried for naught, for here you are and looking perfectly lovely.” She hugged Ella again and looked to be ready to burst out in tears. “Wherever have you been?”

“I took a position, Mrs Garraway. I work for Lady Osborn as her daughter’s companion,” Ella told her.

Instead of being shocked or disappointed, Mrs Garraway nodded approvingly. “That’s my girl. You were never so above yourself that you couldn’t find your way. That’s what the Colonel kept saying. ‘Got her father’s nerve,’ he’d say when I would get to fretting.” She paused and looked Ella over again. “And they must be very fond of you to give you such a lovely costume and let you have suitors.”

Bad enough that the colour in her cheeks drained away, Ella couldn’t even look the lady in the eye. Oh, she was in the suds now. More so than for just taking Pamela’s place at the ball.

“Ella!” Mrs Garraway said, her voice turning from welcoming to stern. “I can see it on your face. What mischief is this?”

She bit her lip and looked over at the woman who was the closest person she had left to family. And with her thoughts in a whirl, she turned to the lady and confessed all. “Mrs Garraway, I am in such a tangle. Lady Pamela begged me to take her place tonight. Lady Osborn thinks I am her daughter.”

“Is the woman so daft that she can’t see her own daughter?”

“She’s a bit near-sighted,” Ella confessed. “And has paid little heed to Lady Pamela until now. She confuses me with her daughter often, so we thought, well, Lady Pamela knew that her mother wouldn’t notice the difference.”

Mrs Garraway shook her head. She’d raised three daughters herself, all while following the drum, and seen them all married to good men. But she’d done so by keeping a close eye on them. And her maternal ways returned in full force. “And where is this Lady Pamela?”

Again, Ella blanched. “She’s run off.” And when the good lady gasped, she continued quickly, “He is a good man — Lord Percy Snodgrass, the second son of the Marquess of Lichfield. They are very much in love.”

The Colonel’s wife pursed her lips. “And if it is a good match, Ella Cynders, why ever are they eloping?”

“Their parents don’t approve.”

This didn’t win any favour from Mrs Garraway. “Oh, good heavens, gel, however did you get mixed up in such a scandal? You’ll be sacked. Did you think about that?”

Ella shook her head. “Oh, no, it won’t be like that.”

Mrs Garraway’s brows rose into a pair of question marks.

“Well, yes, I will be sacked, that much is for certain,” she conceded. “But Lady Pamela has promised to hire me as her companion, so I will have a job once again when they return to London.”

“Oh, Ella, think on this. Does Lord Percy have an income? Estates? The capacity to keep a wife? Do his parents approve of the match?”

“Well, not exactly—” In fact, they had forbidden it. They wanted an heiress for Percy, since he was unlikely to inherit. And Lady Pamela, while a lovely creature, would come to her marriage with little, considering her father’s shaky finances.

“And if his parents don’t approve of the match, do you honestly think they will take you — the one who helped to make this mésalliance happen — into their employ?”

Oh, that had never occurred to her! As Pamela had laid out her plans, it seemed so simple. And now … “You don’t think I’ll be—”

“You’ll be dismissed without references, gel. You’ve landed yourself in a great deal of trouble.”

Ella’s breath froze in her throat. No, it couldn’t be. But, in her heart, she knew the truth. Tears welled up in her eyes. Oh, she was done for.

“Now, now, no need for all that. It isn’t your fault — entirely — that this Lady Pamela is a headstrong piece, not that her ladyship is like to see it that way. Still, I can see you haven’t changed a bit. You romantic thing. You likely thought Lady Pamela’s marriage would be just like your parents’, didn’t you? But your mother fully understood the consequences that her marriage wrought.”

Ella nodded. Her own parents had made a runaway marriage and been blissfully happy despite the family cutting their daughter off completely. Her grandparents had even refused to acknowledge Ella.

“They loved each other, and they never lacked for anything, and neither will Lady Pamela,” Ella said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. Despite her father being an officer with no background, her aristocratic mother had been more than content to follow him. The likelihood of the pampered Lady Pamela living happily in reduced circumstances wasn’t so certain. Not even with Lord Percy at her side. For he was just as spoiled. “Oh, Mrs Garraway, I am in ever so much of a coil.”

“That you are, lass. That you are.” Then Mrs Garraway smiled. “But it is your good luck that I’ve found you when I did. The Colonel is being sent back to Portugal and I am off with him. We sail in the morning, and you will come with us. I’ve missed you, gel. So after her ladyship sends you off with a flea in your ear and you are in complete disgrace, make haste to the docks, so you can come and keep me company in my dotage. That is, if you don’t mind coming to Portugal? Better than the streets of London, I have to say.”

Ella didn’t know what to say. So she threw herself into the lady’s arms and hugged her tight. “Oh, Mrs Garraway, whatever have I done to deserve you?”

“You might not say that in a few months when you’ve grown tired of me!” she laughed, a fond glow in her eyes. “Oh, now, don’t gape so, gel.” She glanced again at Ella’s costume. “I must say, dear girl, you are going into your disgrace in an elegant fashion. You sewed that costume, didn’t you?”

“You would know, you taught me every stitch,” she said, finally finding her voice, and swiping at the tears that had bubbled up in her eyes.

“I might have taught you how, but you have an eye, lass. Your mother’s eye for colour. And for handsome fellows, I must say. Whoever is that swain of yours?” The lady grinned and glanced at the door, for the music was striking up again.

“I don’t know,” Ella confessed. “But he is so handsome, and so kind. Yet, I am hardly—”

“Bah! He’d be lucky to have you,” the lady said. “And if things were different …” The dear woman sighed and hugged her one more time. “Oh, Ella, it isn’t fair, but it is the way of things.”

She knew exactly what Mrs Garraway meant.
If Ella wasn’t in service … if her parents hadn’t married in disgrace … If she were really a lady …