Truly Yours (21 page)

“And from me.”

“You were, what, seventeen when your mother died? Sir Frederick would have had them out of your hands and to the pawn shop before you could count them. Your mother knew that. She meant her bequest to come to you when you turned twenty-five, or when you wed.”

“When Sir Frederick could not keep me from leaving his household and his guardianship. But you say the man gave them to you now, for me. Does he not think I will live the three years until my twenty-fifth birthday?”

Rex sat back down again, looking at his cousin, debating what to say. “He, ah, thought you could use the jewelry to finance an escape.”

“Oh. In case you cannot find proof of my innocence. Now I see why you were so concerned.” She did not deny the possibility of bolting, but went back to sorting through the necklaces and bracelets, putting matching sets together on the table beside her chair, next to her forgotten teacup. She started to sniffle as she raised each glittering piece to the light, recalling her mother going off to this ball or that dinner party wearing the beautiful baubles. She remembered being allowed to play with her mother’s jewel box as a small girl, thinking she had never seen such glitter, such glory. They were tokens of her father’s affection, her mother had always said, although her favorite gift from Lord Carville was Amanda herself. Amanda would have better someday, her mother had promised.

“I never thought to see any of these again, not even the emeralds, which had been my grandmother’s, handed down to the first daughters of my mother’s family. I was left with nothing from either of my parents but my pearls.” She fingered the strand around her neck. “I suppose they were not valuable enough for Sir Frederick to bother about. Or else he thought he’d have to purchase me some piece of trumpery if he took these, to make me look fashionable and prosperous enough in front of my mother’s friends.” She sniffled again, louder.

“Great gads,” Daniel swore. “You ain’t going to cry, are you?”

“Of course not,” Amanda said, tears running down her cheeks. “It is simply so . . . so heartening to discover how much my mother cared, how much effort she took to look after me, even years later, when I need it the most. She did not want me dependent on Sir Frederick or anyone else, and now I need not be. I can pay my own way, hire my own barristers. This is like a gift from heaven. I am happy, truly.”

“Damn, you don’t look happy.” Daniel spoke with a brother’s bluntness. “All splotchy and red-faced, in fact. I cannot stand to see a female cry. Makes me blubber myself, don’t you know. And makes me hungry, too. I always eat when I am sad—disheartened, that is. Ask Rex.”

“He’s hungry when he’s happy too, so ignore the gudgeon. And there was never a question of affording the finest barrister in the land. Lady Royce can afford it, for her godchild.”

Amanda nodded, but kept dampening the heirlooms with her tears.

Daniel jumped up, scattering crumbs, and headed for the door. “I know just the thing. An ice from Gunter’s always cheers me up, it does.” He whistled for the dog. “Come on, Verity, let’s go find some better fare than butteredtoast. We’ll come back with a pail full, if it doesn’t melt.”

“Coward,” Rex whispered as his cousin rushed past him.

“Every time,” Daniel admitted, handing over a spare handkerchief. “You’re going to need this if she’s anything like my sister.”

Amanda was sobbing openly now, her shoulders shaking, without pretending otherwise.

“Shall I ring for Nanny? Would you take some laudanum?” Rex asked, helpless. “What can I fetch for you? What do you need?”

“I . . . I need a dog.”

A dog? The woman had a death sentence hanging over her head, a fortune in jewels at her side, and she wanted a dog? He decided the events were finally too much for her fragile senses. At least they could plead guilty by insanity if all else failed. “I think you need the laudanum. Perhaps a brandy?”

“No, I need someone to love me, the way my mother did. The way your dog loves you.”

“You might not have noticed, but the traitor scampered right after my cousin at the first mention of food.”

“But Verity will be back. All I have are these cold stones from my mother.”

They were worth a king’s ransom, but Rex could comprehend her meaning, at least he thought he could. “She loved you very much.”

“I have never missed her more, but you will not understand that.”

She was wrong. He did understand, all too well. “My mother left when I was a boy.”

Amanda did not know the whole story; no one did. All she could say was “I am sorry.”

“Do not be. We managed. I had my father and Nanny; and my aunt, Daniel’s mother, lived nearby.”

She cried harder, for him, for her. Hell, he thought, she might be crying for every motherless urchin in the streets, there were so many tears.

Any gentleman would gather her into his arms so she could cry against his shoulder. But only a swine like Rex, he decided, would be glad of the excuse to hold her. “You are not alone, my dear. You have me. It’s not much, I admit, but I am here, by your side.” Actually she was now in his lap, on the sofa, which did not follow any gentlemanly code of conduct that Rex knew.

Nor was his embrace comforting, obviously, because she kept crying. Damn. Relegating his rising heart rate to the pigsty, Rex stroked her back, he rubbed her shoulders, he said “There, there.” Still she kept crying. She had every right to weep and wail. Time was rushing by and he hadn’t found the real killer. Now he’d warned her not to run off. He was failing her, and he felt like sobbing himself. “We’ll win, I know we will. You’ll be free to have a happy life, get a dog if you want.”

She sniffled. “With my reputation?”

“Dogs don’t care about that rot. Oh, you meant your happy future? With Lady Royce’s sponsorship, you’ll be a success.” He promised the countess’s cooperation without hesitation. “The gentlemen will see you shine as bright as those diamonds.”

She blew her nose with the handkerchief he held out, Daniel’s, as large as a tablecloth. “I suppose I can purchase myself a husband with a necklace or two.”

“You will not need to buy a match. The dolts in London cannot be that stupid.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Thank you. You are so kind to say that, no matter that it is far from true.”

“I do not lie, I told you that. And kindness has nothing to do with it. You are beautiful.”

“Now that is stretching the truth, especially today! I must look a fright. Your cousin ran away, didn’t he?”

“You look beautiful,” Rex insisted, wishing she could see the truth the way he could. Because she could not, and because he had no choice, no more than he could have left her in prison, or left her alone and ill, he tipped her head up. No, there was no choice. He might never have had a choice since his father sent him to London. He was not a firm believer in fate, but having Amanda in his lap, pressed against him, felt ordained, inevitable, and exactly right. He lowered his lips to hers.

She met his lips with a soft moan that reminded him that, written in the stars or written in sand, kissing Miss Carville was still wrong. She was still a vulnerable young female, under his care, under his mother’s roof. Rex started to pull back but she had her arm around his neck and would not release him. So he kissed her again, longer, deeper, expressing without words more of his own wants and needs and loneliness. She was so sweet, so soft, so giving; he could feel himself lost in that kiss.

She moaned again.

So did his conscience. Good grief, the woman was his responsibility, his to keep safe. What the hell was he doing, kissing a female who was so beset with woes that she sought solace in the nearest arms? Since when did he let his passions rule his head? He was a gentleman, which meant he did not take advantage of those weaker than him. He did not seduce maidens. Most of all, he did not believe in marriage for misfits such as he. He did, however, believe that a man who ruined a virgin was duty bound to wed her.

She was willing, though. She was distressed. She was dangerous. His better instincts were at war with his baser ones.

Nanny won the battle, coming to tell them that dinner was almost ready. “There you are, dears.”

There they were, suddenly sitting side by side on the sofa like naughty children. Children did not feel their lips on fire.

Rex was furious with himself and the tightening in his groin. He was a rake and a cad. He had no scruples. What must poor Amanda think of him?

Amanda was furious with herself and the quivering of her fingertips. She was a fallen woman and a fool for dreaming. She had no morals. What must the poor viscount think of her?

He thought he owed Miss Carville an apology. “Please excuse us, Nanny. We need to speak a little more about the case.”

“Of course you do, lovey. Do hurry though. You would not want the roast overdone or the cock-a-leekie soup to grow cold.”

No, but he wished his blood would cool so his brain could work. Rex waited for Nanny to shuffle out of the room before saying he was sorry.

Amanda did not feign misunderstanding. “No, it was my fault, tossing myself at you that way. I was upset. I apologize.”

“Your discomposure was natural. I, ah, wished to comfort you.”

“I know. Thank you.”

He did not feel absolved. “You should have stopped me.”

She gathered the jewels back into the silk pouch. “I did not want to.”

Her words, in the blue of truth, set his blood to boiling again. He leaned away, to put distance between them.

Amanda stared at her hands in her lap, to keep from reaching for him. “I was forward.”

He took her hand. “Never think that. I was a brute. You are a lovely woman and I am only human.”

“Thank you. I am human too, and you are a lovely man.”

He laughed, but raised her hand to his lips. “What, with scars and a limp and a battered nose?”

“With a good heart and the most beautiful eyes in all of England.”

He leaned over and stroked her eyelids. “No, yours are much finer. Like soft brown velvet a man could sink into.”

She smiled back at him, relishing the gentle touch. “Mine are common brown eyes. And they are red and swollen, I’d wager.”

He lowered his gaze. “No, but your lips are.”

Now she blushed. “You really must think me a wanton. I swear I do not kiss every gentleman I meet!”

He stood, thinking of her tender, inexperienced kisses. “I think you are brave and good, and I think I had better take myself off before I forget that I am a gentleman and you are an innocent.”

She rose also, but took his hand. “But Nanny and her sister are cooking dinner for you and Daniel. You have to stay.”

The invitation to stay was too tempting by half, but he was staring at her lips again, thinking of their taste, not of the cock-a-leekie soup.

As if his eyes drew her closer, Amanda took a step nearer him, so her breasts almost touched his coat. Almost was not good enough. This must be the animal magnetism she had heard about. She took another step, and his arms came around her.

This time the kiss involved tongues and teeth and lips and sharing breaths and sighs. Her hands moved to his back. His moved to her front, to the sides of her breasts, making her gasp with surprise, then groan with pleasure. Yes, she thought, this was far better than being patted on the head and told to go off to wash, good girl, Amanda.

She was a woman, and he was a man. She could feel his virility through her skirts and his trousers. She was doing that to him. She felt the answering warmth between her thighs, in the pit of her stomach, down to her toes. The heat was nothing to the fires of hell she would burn in for all eternity, and at that moment Amanda did not care.

“More tea, my lord? More— Oh, my!”

They had not heard Dodd come into the room at all. Rex shielded Amanda from the butler’s prying eyes, without taking his arms from around her and said, “Miss Carville is upset. The last few days have taken their toll.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I said that day you walked in here, all in a huff. My Nell was overset, she was.”

Rex pointed toward the door. “Tea, Dodd. And brandy.”

Amanda’s knees were so weak she would collapse into a puddle if Rex did not hold her, so she clung to him.

His self-discipline was so weak he folded his arms around her. His bad leg could not support them both so they fell forward to the sofa, which was far more comfortable anyway.

“Still overset, is she?” Dodd set the tray down with a clatter.

“Out!”

Dodd paused at the door. “Um, you were not going to mention my Nell to the countess, were you, my lord?” He waggled his eyebrows at what he could see of Miss Carville, half-behind and half-beneath the viscount.

“That’s blackmail!”

“That’s a narrow sofa.”

Amanda giggled, a sound so enchanting that Rex simply had to kiss her again, even knowing Dodd had left the parlor door open behind him.

“He never liked me,” she said a few heartbeats—heavy, pounding, rapid heartbeats—later. “Heaven knows what he’ll think of me now.”

“He will show you the proper respect. He likes his position.” So did Rex, with almost all of him touching almost all of Amanda. Lud, what was happening to him? Rex asked himself with the last vestiges of intelligence left to him. All of his self-preservation, all of his precepts, were flown out the window, along with his wits. But his blood, ah, that was rushing from his neck to his nethers, where he was alert and attentive. His body knew she was his, his for the taking, his for the pleasuring. His to wed?

Hell, no! He jumped to his feet, pulling her with him. “This is wrong! I am not a stag in rut, a randy goat. And the door is open. I mean, I do have principles. I have—”

“I have it, a whole bucket full of raspberry ice!” Daniel and Verity raced into the room. “Hurry, you two, before there’s nothing left but a puddle of juice. I saw Nanny and she swears we will spoil our suppers, but who cares? Didn’t she always say the same, and didn’t I always clear my whole plate? I say, Amanda’s not still weeping, is she?”