Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Althea stared out over the gardens of Kensingham Hall. The cold night made her shiver, and she drew her wrap more tightly about her.
Inside, the orchestra was playing a minuet, and her uncle’s guests were dancing themselves into oblivion. She could scarcely believe Uncle Winston had decided to have a full-fledged ball on the estate. He’d never done such a thing before.
Then again, he’d changed a great deal since that awful night three weeks ago.
For one thing, he’d talked to her. He’d told her why he’d been so circumspect about his activities, why he’d been so cold and aloof, so solemn.
And it had been exactly as Neville had said—he’d merely been trying to protect her.
So Nev had been right about that, too.
At the thought of Nev, she bit her lip, stifling the urge to cry. She’d cried far too much these past three weeks.
At first, her tears had been over his heartless betrayal.
But after time had passed, she’d reconsidered everything that had happened that night.
She’d remembered all she’d said about marriage, and she’d understood why he’d been uncertain of her.
After all, she’d told him more than once that she’d never marry a rake like him.
And yet . . . She clenched the marble railing. He should have asked her. He should have been honest about his feelings.
But she hadn’t been entirely honest with him, either.
She’d protected her heart, as unwilling as he to chance rejection.
It was true she hadn’t put him in a situation where he had to marry her.
Still, when she’d given herself to him, her secret hope had been that he would.
So she wasn’t that different from him, was she?
Besides, he’d suffered for what he’d done.
She could tell it in the heartfelt apologetic notes, accompanied by flowers and gifts, that he’d sent the first three days after she’d left his house.
And when she’d written to say she didn’t want to hear from him again, she could hear his suffering in the silence that said he’d obeyed her request.
Then there was Isabella’s letter. Isabella had expressed surprise over a whirlwind visit her brother had made to Scotland, in which he’d begged her forgiveness for having been so stubborn about refusing the earl’s suit.
“He’s gone soft all of a sudden,” Isabella had written. “But he was such a dear. One curious thing, though. He asked all sorts of questions about you. I can’t imagine why.”
Althea knew why, just as she knew why Nev hadn’t been seen at any balls or parties for the past three weeks. She knew why there’d been nothing but silence from the Foxworth estate, to the point that even the Prince had commented on The Fox’s uncharacteristic withdrawal from the world.
Yes, after three weeks of thinking, she knew a great deal.
For one thing, she knew he wasn’t the wretch she’d painted him to be in those first few days after their night together.
He’d deceived her, true, but he’d also given her so much that night.
He’d shown her the pleasures of passion and had never made her feel ashamed for enjoying them.
He’d taught her she wasn’t the measure of what others thought of her, but was only herself.
And he’d demonstrated amply that being herself had its own rewards.
She couldn’t help but remember that when she’d been willing to let him seduce her, he’d hesitated, not wanting her to do it for the wrong reasons.
Too late she remembered that the door to his bedroom had been shut when Uncle arrived, that if she hadn’t come out herself, Uncle might never have known she was there.
No matter how much she tried to attribute all of that to some devious intent on Nev’s part, she couldn’t. She knew better. Because despite his deception, he’d been the only man she’d ever been able to talk to honestly. He’d been the only one to accept her for who she was.
Now she regretted her hasty words that night. She regretted never telling him she loved him. Because she did. She probably always had. But she didn’t know how to turn back time, to set things right again. She’d wounded his pride sorely. And he’d wounded hers. So how to move past all that?
“I see you keep the potted plants to a minimum on your balconies,” came a voice behind her. “A wise decision indeed.”
She froze at the sound of that painfully familiar voice. It was a dream. It had to be. He couldn’t be here, for Uncle Winston would never invite him. Would he?
She didn’t move an inch, afraid that if she did, he would disappear. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, holding her breath.
There was a long pause, and then he said in a stiff voice, “Your uncle invited me to attend. I assumed it was at your request, but I see I was wrong.” He hesitated, and when he continued, his voice was achingly soft. “I’m sorry. I won’t trouble you further.”
She whirled around as he turned toward the balcony entrance. “Wait!”
He stopped. Slowly he faced her, and she feasted her eyes on him, on the broad shoulders he’d let her cry on three weeks ago .
. . on the cheek that held his lone dimple, now hidden, and the unsmiling mouth so taut and grim.
He didn’t look well at all. His face had a hollowness to it, as if he hadn’t been eating, and his beautiful eyes glittered too brightly.
“I need to know one thing from you, Nev. On that night at your estate . . . did you intend for my uncle to find me in your bed? Is that how you planned to make sure I married you?”
Although his face filled with guilt, his gaze held hers steadily.
“No. I’ll admit that at first I had some vague idea of having him find you at my breakfast table.
But once it came to the test, and the choice was either to make the offer without revealing your presence there or to show him that I’d compromised you, I .
. . I found I couldn’t embarrass you. If you hadn’t come out when you did, I would have brought you home without his knowing.
And I would have repeated my offer, to you as well as him. ”
Relief coursed through her. She didn’t think she could forgive him if he’d ultimately chosen to shame her before her uncle.
“I know what I did was callous,” he went on, “and I regret it more than you can imagine. You were right. I should have asked you for your hand. I shouldn’t have taken the coward’s path and tried to force you into a situation where you had to marry me.”
His apology was like balm to her already healing wound. He looked so remorseful that she couldn’t help wanting to comfort him. “I suppose I shouldn’t have made it so hard for you to ask either,” she said, taking a step toward him.
He went still, his eyes glimmering in the light from the ballroom.
The faintest hope lit his face. “Perhaps not.” He moved toward her, his hands clenched at his sides as if he fought to keep from reaching for her.
“But you were in your rights to protect yourself, given what you knew about me and my reputation.”
“I’ve been thinking about that reputation, my lord,” she said softly. “It seems to me I might have been more right when I said you weren’t nearly as self-serving as you pretended than when I called you a heartless deceiver.”
He dragged in a heavy breath. “You’re too generous by far. I thought I had taught you better how to recognize the tricks of a rake.”
“Oh, you taught me a great many things. You taught me that men, especially rakes, can act like fools when they want something.”
“And when they’re in love,” he added, his voice husky with emotion.
Her eyes went wide. “Are you in love?”
He lifted one eyebrow, his gaze searching hers. “Are you?”
She took another step toward him, reaching up to stroke his face. Her heart leapt when his breathing quickened. “That’s how we went wrong in the first place, remember? Asking questions we were both afraid to answer honestly. Don’t you think it’s time to say what we feel and forget our pride?”
“You’re wiser than I, darling.” He covered her hand with his. “I love you. I know you probably find it hard to believe I could fall in love with you in only one night, but it’s true.”
“I don’t find it the least bit hard to believe,” she whispered, her heart soaring, “since I did exactly the same thing.”
He gripped her hand. “Does that mean you’ll forgive me for the wretched way I treated you?”
After three weeks without him, forgiveness came easily to her. “Yes.”
A relieved smile broke over his face. “And you’ll marry me? You’ll take on the project of reforming a wicked rogue?” His voice lowered. “You’ll have my children?”
The very thought of it warmed her through and through. “Yes, my love.”
He caught her about the waist, clutching her so tightly to him that she could scarcely breathe. “Now that’s a decidedly better answer than the one you gave me three weeks ago,” he whispered against her neck, then covered it with kisses.
“It was a decidedly better way of asking the question.”
Nev laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. I rather enjoyed our stolen night.” He pressed her back against the balcony until she could feel the hardness in his breeches. “Indeed, I wouldn’t mind repeating it.”
She muffled her own laugh to flash him a look of mock disapproval. “Are you trying to seduce me again, Nev?”
“Always, my beauty.” With a grin, he lowered his mouth to within an inch of hers. “You wouldn’t want me to reform that much, would you?”
No indeed. As his lips claimed hers, as sweet and demanding as she remembered, she rose to meet them with all the love in her heart.
There were definite advantages to marrying a rogue.