Chapter Sixteen #2
William stood staring out the window upon the lake, his back to her and in slight profile.
Even now with his simple trousers, tunic and waistcoat, he was regal.
He didn’t need a cravat or fancy jacket to exude his rank.
He simply looked the part of a duke and she had almost grown used to his handsomeness.
Almost. She took a steadying breath, knocked on the open door and waited for William to turn from the window.
When he faced her, she met his gaze and smiled, her toes tingling.
She still was never quite prepared for the attraction she felt and the winsome looks he gifted her.
Ones that she reminded herself she had never earned as she was not his betrothed.
She smothered down the guilt that bucked up in her again and assumed her role: that of the loving and devoted Lady Penelope Denning.
‘Good morning, dear,’ he said and came to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and pulling her into his side to greet her as he had been wont to do over the last few days.
The same longing bloomed in her chest each time, wishing it all were real and that this was her life and he her actual betrothed.
She closed her eyes, savouring the feeling of being cherished and wishing what he felt for her was real and true despite knowing it wasn’t.
She would allow herself these moments for she knew they were fleeting.
One day he would remember who he was and most likely hate her for what she had done: pretend to love him.
But part of her knew it was not pretend at all.
‘How are you feeling today?’ she cooed, leaning into his warm, strong hold, something she would miss when it was gone. She shoved the worry aside.
‘Better now that you are here with me.’ He ran a hand over her hair and his thumb skimmed the top of her ear before resting along the back of her neck. She sighed aloud and he met her gaze, his eyes curious and sparkling.
‘I wish I could remember how I was able to win you, Lady Penelope.’ His voice lowered. ‘You are the most gorgeous creature, and I find…it is hard to subdue the—’
A knock sounded at the door and they froze before William released his hold on her. Whatever he was about to say was lost. The moment severed.
‘Your Grace,’ Simmons offered with a nod before he brought in their tea service. He set it on the table between the sofa and oversized chair and left them.
William cleared his throat. ‘Tea?’
‘Of course,’ Hattie replied, creating some distance between them as they settled across from each other around the table.
The distance helped clear her muddled thoughts and she focused on preparing their cups.
William had a hidden penchant for a cube of sugar and splash of milk, which was exactly how he’d taken his tea before.
Evidently, his body remembered much of what his mind could not.
She handed him his saucer and cup carefully, their hands brushing briefly, just enough to awaken that longing within her once more.
He is not truly yours. It is best you remember that.
She knew one morning he would remember and she would be just the governess once more at best or dismissed at worst. Who knew how he might react once he regained his memory and realised the truth behind who she was and the lies he had been told?
But could she not enjoy the ruse while it lasted, especially if it aided his recovery?
She sipped her tea and pretended she wasn’t completely deluding herself.
Which she knew she was.
‘Will you tell me of her? Of what happened?’ he asked, glancing back at the portrait of his late wife over the hearth.
Hattie choked on her tea, caught off guard by his question. Perhaps the universe was reminding her of the dangerous game she played. The poor man had been deceived before. How would he feel once he realised he had been deceived again by a woman he believed loved him?
‘Although Daphne has told me some of it, I sense she is reluctant to tell me all. Was it truly so bad what happened between us?’ His gaze searched hers, a notch woven deep between his blue eyes as he leaned forward in his seat.
Her stomach flipped and lurched.
Why did he have to be so…handsome…and what did she dare tell him?
‘I do not know if such talk will aid your recovery,’ she began, cutting a fine line between the truths she knew. Her cup clattered against the saucer.
He watched her face, then his gaze drifted to her hand, noting her obvious unease.
She set the saucer on her lap. His face softened.
‘You can tell me. It does not matter now. You need not shelter me from it. I have lost everything already.’ His voice trailed off into a whisper and he sat back, ready to accept whatever she told him.
Blast.
Where were Mr Simmons’s and Mrs Chisholm’s timely interruptions when she needed them?
Clarity is kindness, Hat.
Trudy’s words echoed in her mind. Her friend said such all the time. Most of the time Hattie agreed with her, but at this moment she wasn’t so certain.
His gaze was unflinching and she squirmed under his assessment of her. Heat flushed her cheeks and she shifted again on the sofa and placed her tea and saucer back on the table. He waited patiently for her to begin.
‘I can only tell you what you told me.’
‘That shall be enough,’ he replied with a soft nod.
‘Your first wife, Cecily, the Marchioness, was beautiful and quite popular with the ton…and enjoyed the attentions of other gentleman…’ She paused, looking to the ceiling and trying to find some delicate way of indicating what the late Marchioness had done.
‘She was unfaithful?’ he asked, his voice deep with emotion.
Relieved, she nodded and met his gaze. ‘That is what you told me.’
‘And her death?’ he continued.
‘A carriage accident.’
‘Hmm. And that is all?’
She hesitated again and her pulse thrummed through her body.
‘Please. Just tell me.’
She held his gaze. ‘She was with another man in that carriage when she died. They were…together, if you take my meaning.’
His brow lifted and he cursed before he sank back into the cushion; his face blanched briefly before he regained his colour and composure.
‘And my daughter? How long has she not spoken?’
‘Since the day your wife died,’ she replied.
He nodded and stood. He walked to the window and looked out. The quiet hung between them and Hattie sat frozen. Curses. She shouldn’t have told him. What man would want to know such about his late wife?
But lying would have been worse. He deserved the truth, yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell him all of it…the truth about her. But she could right now while the wound was already fresh. She opened her mouth to begin.
‘Perhaps I should not have asked,’ he said aloud, followed by a small chuckle.
She closed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut. Saints be. Perhaps not. She felt horrible. This was the last thing she wished to do. ‘It was I who should not have told you. Too much has happened for you to be ready for such news.’
Or any additional truths for that matter.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and turned to her. He stilled and studied her like a curiosity one sees in a shop window, his gaze uncertain. ‘And yet you chose me despite such a scandal and upheaval with my late wife? And the difficulties with my daughter?’
‘Yes,’ she said breathlessly. She shouldn’t have said it, because it wasn’t true, but the word tumbled out before she even knew it was a thought in her mind. For she would have chosen him repeatedly if this was her real life and she could have made such a choice.
If this were something other than a ruse carrying on too long.
‘Why?’ He walked to her and sat next to her, the cushion sinking under his weight, taking her hands in his own.
‘Why would you choose me after all this?’ His words were desperate, his eyes wide and urgent.
He needed to know and understand as if this were the most important thing in his world.
She could feel his pulse through the tight pressure of his hold on her fingers.
She hesitated and swallowed hard. She could tell him everything right now.
This could be the moment where she told the whole truth, not just the bits she wished to.
They could start new and fresh with no deceit between them and she could return to being the governess to Millie she was hired to be. Her heartbeat faltered and increased.
‘I…’ she began and then glanced down at their interlaced hands. How long had she wanted this? To be cared for, to have someone look at her as if she was their world, to have…a man who adored her and a family. And, yet it wasn’t real, not really, but could it be? Could this be real?
‘Because you are the best of men, William,’ she said quietly.
Her eyes welled and she met his gaze. The words were true and yet still a lie, and confusion overwhelmed her.
‘I know the situation is impossible and I wish—’ she began, but he reached up and cupped her cheek in a soft caress, turning her face to his.
The softness in his eyes and acceptance there made her breath catch.
And then before she could say or do anything else, he kissed the life out of her. His mouth came down hard on her own, his lips commanding and yet soft, and she felt herself tumbling through the air into some other world far beyond anything she had read in any book.
He pulled her into his arms and his warmth cocooned her.
Her arms slid around his torso, his muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his thin tunic.
His body shuddered under her touch and she thought it was the most magical feeling in the world.
To be wanted, desired, and cherished all at once.
She felt like the little cinder girl with the power of a woman for the first time and it was intoxicating.
Too soon, he pulled away, resting his forehead against her own, his breaths shallow and uneven. ‘I am afraid, I must cease, my lady,’ he said his voice husky and low. ‘Or I may cease to be a gentleman. You have me undone.’
Hattie’s stomach flipped and she bit her lip. She didn’t trust herself, so she nodded in agreement, running a palm down his cheek. She was quite undone, too.
‘Shall we break our fast?’ he asked. ‘Then I will join you and Millie for a walk about the lake.’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ she said, finally gathering the courage to speak.
He rose and pulled her up alongside him.
She fit perfectly in the crook of his arm.
He pressed a kiss to her temple before he stepped out of the embrace.
His hand slid down her arm and clutched her hand, squeezing it gently before letting go.
Hattie released a shuddering breath and smiled at him as she headed for the dining room.
Her step was wobbly as if she were a newborn colt, the rush of feeling alive upsetting her balance.
She had set them on a course she couldn’t control as it was only a matter of time before he regained his memory. She only hoped there wouldn’t be too much damage, but her heart knew far better. They were headed to disaster.
But for now, it would be blissful and she would capture it for as long as she could.
As Ophelia would say, what was one’s life without adventure?
This held the promise of being an adventure in spades and she would claim it until it shattered, for if life had taught her anything it was that it could change in an instant.