Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion. Louise Allen

      ‘So you can paint a better portrait of me,’ she sighed. ‘Yes, you said that before.’

      ‘You don’t sound as though you believe me,’ he complained. ‘If it isn’t for that, then what other reason could I possibly have for wanting you to divulge your innermost thoughts?’

      She sighed again. ‘You are in one of those moods where you won’t give up, aren’t you?’

      He grinned at her from round the edge of the canvas. ‘So, surrender. Tell me something. You will only doze off if I don’t keep you talking. And I don’t want to hand you a portrait of yourself snoring. It won’t be flattering.’

      Ah. That was a bit more believable. She could easily have dozed off, after the amount of energy they’d expended making love that morning. And at least having a conversation with him would keep her awake.

      ‘You told me you inherited a house from some aunt,’ he said. ‘Which made me wonder...’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Well, it is a bit unusual for you to throw in your lot with a friend, rather than return to your family after her death, that’s all, if marriage wasn’t going to be on the cards.’

      ‘Returning to my family was the last thing I’d ever do, after the way they treated me,’ she said mutinously. ‘They were so awful, when I...broke down after we parted.’

      ‘Saying you had nothing to make a fuss about, I remember you saying so. Are they all idiots? You were obviously broken-hearted.’

      She huffed out a surprised laugh. ‘I can’t believe you are the one person who can understand, and sympathise, when you were the cause of it all.’

      ‘A moment ago you said I was not.’

      ‘Don’t be pedantic,’ she snapped. ‘You started the chain of events and you know it. Only then they were all so...righteous, and mealy-mouthed, and unkind...’

      ‘As I said, idiots.’

      ‘All except my Aunt Georgie. Though, to be honest, I think she may have sided with me simply to spite my father. They’d clearly been at loggerheads for most of their lives. Anyway—’ she shrugged ‘—I went to stay with her for what was supposed to have been a short visit and ended up living there permanently. She...she was a bit of an eccentric. But we got on.’

      ‘So, I’m guessing that staying with her, your father’s arch enemy, didn’t endear you to your family?’

      ‘You could say that. Although, to be fair, when Aunt Georgie died, my father did come to the funeral holding out an olive branch. Of sorts.’ She sighed. ‘He said that in spite of my refusal to show any penitence over our estrangement, he was prepared to take me back into his home and care for me.’

      ‘Oh...oh dear.’

      ‘Are you laughing?’ It was infuriating not being able to see his face, but there was a definite trace of amusement in his voice.

      ‘Not exactly. I was just picturing your reaction when he more or less ordered you to surrender, since he thought you had no option.’

      ‘Not only that,’ she said indignantly, ‘he tried to make sure I had no options. As soon as he found out Aunt Georgie had left everything to me, he tried to overturn the will. He told me, in the presence of a lawyer, that since I was merely a woman it would be much safer if he was to handle it all for me.’

      Her father had been stunned to discover how much Amethyst was suddenly worth. He’d only been aware that his sister owned a house and a modest amount of capital. He’d assumed that because she lived so modestly, she was just eking out an existence on the interest. Instead she’d invested it in all sorts of ventures that, had he known how risky some of them had been, would have turned his hair white.

      ‘Had he held the position of trustee for his sister, then?’

      ‘No! Which was what made it all so...’

      ‘Humiliating? Infuriating? Unfair?’

      ‘All of those things. But why is it that you seem to be able to understand exactly how I felt?’

      ‘Well, my own father placed no confidence in my judgement, either. Even though I am male. Which is possibly even more humiliating, infuriating and unfair.’

      ‘So...you do not blame me for refusing to beg forgiveness and surrender my independence?’

      ‘How could I? Have I not done the very same thing?’

      ‘You mentioned, at the Wilsons’, that your father has...’

      ‘Washed his hands of me, yes.’

      ‘But what of your brothers? Do you have any contact with them?’

      ‘Not really. They are all very successful in their own professions and don’t want to risk ruining their reputations by being too involved with the black sheep of the family.’

      ‘Same here...’ she sighed ‘...with my sisters. I got invitations to their weddings, but they were too scared of what my father would say to come anywhere near me. It’s as if I don’t exist for them any more.’

      Her only value for them, she’d discovered, was her wealth. Not one of them had contacted her, in all the years she’d lived with Aunt Georgie. It was only after her father had discovered how much wealth she’d inherited that Pearl wrote, telling her that she’d just given birth to a boy, and would be honoured if Amethyst would consent to be his godmother.

      She’d very nearly thrown the letter in the fire. It was obvious that having a wealthy godmother far outweighed the risk of drawing down the wrath of an impecunious country parson. If she became Pip’s godmother, they would feel entitled to ask her for help with his education and sponsorship in his chosen career. Perhaps even make him her heir, since by then her father would have told them she’d become as confirmed a man-hater as Aunt Georgie and would therefore never marry and have children of her own.

      No wonder Aunt Georgie had gone to such lengths to conceal the extent of her wealth from absolutely everyone.

      Fortunately, Fenella had pointed out that even if it was from mercenary reasons, at least one of her family had made contact. And that she would regret it, once her anger cooled, if she hadn’t taken the opportunity to mend fences.

      ‘So...what will you do if Fenella does marry her French Count?’

      She rubbed at her forehead with one forefinger. ‘I will have to find someone else to come and live with me, of course, to give me a veneer of respectability. In a way, it won’t be all that hard, since I dare say there are any number of single, educated ladies in dire straits. Except...well, none of them would be Fenella. And I will miss Sophie quite desperately.’

      ‘Or,’ he said casually, ‘you could do something utterly radical. You could marry me. Take me home to live with you.’

      ‘What?’ She couldn’t believe he’d repeated that idiotic proposal he’d made the first time they’d made love. They were different people now, couldn’t he see that? They couldn’t go back in time and recapture the youthful feelings they’d had before they’d both had to grow up.

      Not that he’d ever mentioned wanting to recapture those feelings. He’d admitted he had been in love with her and wanted to marry her, then. But of how he felt today? He’d said nothing.

      So she feigned a laugh. ‘Oh, yes, very funny. The answer to all my problems.’

      ‘Well, not all, but possibly some, don’t you think? I don’t like the thought of you having to live all on your own. Or having to hire a stranger to live with you, for the sake of propriety. It is one thing to invite a widowed friend to live with you, but quite another to have to deliberately hire someone to stay in your home.’

      ‘Well, bringing you home from Paris to live with me, like some...overlarge souvenir is certainly not going