The Regency Season Collection: Part Two. Кэрол Мортимер

to two chairs positioned before the fireplace. The grate held the warmth of low embers.

      ‘Caroline was lucky. The doctor said the burn on her arm was superficial and he has dressed and wrapped it. Her fearfulness may take a little longer to recover from, of course, and I doubt she will be venturing anywhere on her own in the foreseeable future. But there is nothing...that she can’t recover from.’

      ‘What about Andrew Howard? How is he faring?’

      ‘A little worse. He has a substantial wound on his leg and a large bruise on the back of his head. I have sent word to Lucien who will come to look him over, no doubt.’

      ‘And your mother?’

      ‘Has been informed of the happenings. Unfortunately, I suppose she will also descend upon us.’ Drawing a hand through his hair, he continued speaking after a few seconds of silence. ‘She is a woman whom life has disappointed and as such goes to great pains to make sure others feel the same way.’

      ‘So she won’t like me?’

      ‘Probably not.’ He didn’t mince the words and for that she was grateful. ‘But she does not like me much, either, so we should be about even.’

      Shocked, Amethyst looked straight at him. ‘But you are her son.’

      ‘She hated my father with a vengeance and I suppose I remind her of him.’

      ‘And Nigel didn’t.’

      ‘He was more persuadable and usually did exactly as she wanted. I was less biddable, but families are complicated things and I have long since ceased trying to understand mine.’

      Amethyst waited as he took a drink. The bruise on his cheek had swollen and was threatening to close up his right eye.

      ‘Where did you learn to wield a knife?’

      Shocked by his directness, she was mute.

      ‘Every other woman of my acquaintance would not know how a blade fits within their fist. But you do. Why?’

      She wanted to tell him, she did. She wanted to spit out all the horror of her first marriage in one unbroken line of thought, but this was neither the time nor the place. Not yet. She needed to get to know him better first.

      ‘The docks are dangerous and I was often there at night.’

      She didn’t know if he believed her or not as he leant forward.

      ‘You surprised me, Amethyst, and that is something not many people have managed to do before. Do you carry your blade now?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Could I see it?’

      With only a little hesitation she brought the leather sheath from a deep pocket and laid it on the table between them. To keep a knife on her person in the safety of his home must alert him to some of the things she would rather keep hidden. She also knew that she no longer wished to lie to him.

      Picking up the scabbard, he extracted the knife, the multiple grooves on the handle which allowed a better grip taking his attention.

      ‘A double-edged stiletto blade and well balanced, too. Does your father know you carry it?’

      She shook her head. ‘It would only worry him.’

      At that he laughed. ‘I am your husband and it worries me. But for now we will leave it at that. I have a request that you might be able to help me with over the next few days. Both of my sisters are...in need of some backbone, for they whine too much and they think too little. Their journey up to Montcliffe today surprised me, however, and made me think there still is a chance to rescue them from my mother’s influence, if you like. The thing is, Amethyst, I want them to be more like you.’

      ‘Like me?’

      ‘Stronger. More certain. They have taken on my mother’s propensity to complain about nothing and it is wearisome and unattractive. Perhaps with a little coaching and some hours spent in your company they might see the value in pursuing a different path, a braver direction.’

      ‘Should I take this as a compliment, my lord?’ Amazement gave Amethyst’s words a quiet lilt. ‘Most gentlemen of the ton want docile wives who think only of the things your sisters are probably fond of.’

      ‘Which is why most marriages in high society are shams.’

      Despite everything she laughed. My God, she could never have had this conversation with Gerald, not in a million years.

      ‘And what exactly is our marriage then, my lord, if not a sham?’

      The gleam in his pale eyes strengthened. ‘You tell me, Lady Montcliffe.’ Finishing the last of his drink, he placed it on the table before standing and drawing her up to him, only the smallest of spaces left between them. ‘I would also like to thank you for your help today.’

      ‘Thank me?’ Every part of her body was squeezed into a breathless waiting.

      ‘It is our wedding night, after all, and even a marriage of convenience should mark the occasion in some way.’

      His fingers stroked the sensitive skin on the back of her neck as he looked at her, the gold threads in his eyes easy to see at such a close distance. ‘There are secrets on your face that you might one day tell me and I have my own as well. But right now, here, in this room, there is only the vestige of a difficult evening behind us and the hope of a better day before us. Perhaps we could find it in us to celebrate at least that?’

      ‘How?’ She was wary.

      ‘Like this.’

      His lips came down across her own with care. He did not force or cajole, he merely waited to see what it was she would do.

      A choice, melded with words of thanks and gratitude, a dark night outside and a warmth within. If he had demanded more she might have left, but he did not. The touch of his tongue against her mouth, only asking, and his hand resting lightly against the small of her back.

      She did not know what happened between them when they touched, but the same feelings as before rose within her, a longing, an affinity, the woman in her whom Gerald had never discovered pressing forward into the hard edge of his passion, two people melded together in a raw and utter need.

      How long had she waited for just this thrall, no rational thought or logic. Her hands went on their own accord to rest on the muscles of his shoulders. Hers. To hold and have. For ever.

      But he could not love her back.

      The pain of loss rose unexpectedly, spilling into her like ruined wine and making her draw away. She saw need flint in his eyes before distance covered it, the lover swallowed by the soldier as he let her go.

      One foot, then two, and although the silence between them screamed with questions she was not brave enough to answer. Yet.

      * * *

      She looked broken and small. He had noticed this thinness from time to time, but tonight it worried him more, her eyes huge in her face, the shadows beneath them dark.

      There was something she was not telling him, the shape of it lingering in fear, her breath forcing panic down to a place where she could manage it. If anyone could understand such things, it was him. He tried to set her at ease.

      ‘I like kissing you.’

      Her blush was expected, but her tears were not. He had never seen a woman cry on a compliment before. She wiped them away with the back of her sleeve, hurriedly, as if she had no time for such emotion.

      ‘My father has had the first of the money transferred into your account, Lord Wylde. It should go some way in helping with...’ She stopped and breathed out hard, as if she had said too much and did not wish for what would come next.

      ‘With the agreements. Just that?’

      She nodded and he felt something shift inside him. Amethyst had been