A Most Unconventional Match (14 page)

‘You don't have to avoid her now. Heavens, she's not only available, it sounds like she needs your protection! Now, don't you go thinking I'm tired of you or wanting to look about for someone new—far from it. I'd be happy to go on as we have for ever. But…I see it in your face when you say her name…The wonder. The craving. I don't want to lie with you while you shut your eyes and pretend I'm someone else.'

Was that really what this visit was about? With his mind afire with Elizabeth, Hal couldn't be certain Sally's suspicion might not be right. Shame and distress adding to his anxiety, he hoped he spoke the truth when he replied, ‘Wouldn't do that.'

Sally brushed his cheek tenderly. ‘I know you wouldn't want to. So put that clever brain to figuring out how to woo the lady.'

Even if he accepted Sally's argument, it was too soon. He shook his head. ‘New widow. Not fitting.'

‘You've waited all these years. Stand by her now and wait a little longer. If she's got half the wits God gave a goat, once her heart's free from grief, she'll want you too. And if she doesn't…' Sally gestured around the room, ‘You know where to find me. Don't let the doubts that, excuse my plain-speaking, your witch of a mother put in your head keep you from pursuing her. There's nothing sweeter than giving yourself body and soul to someone you love with all your heart.'

As she had loved the soldier who had seduced and left her? Hal wondered. But dare he believe what she was urging? That if he were a patient, considerate, and loyal friend to Elizabeth, he might have a chance to win her?

Did he really want that chance?

Attempting to peel away the misconceptions, fears and avoidance that had characterised his many-year fascination with Elizabeth Lowery, Hal tried to determine what he really felt.

As the barriers of doubt and denial dropped away, suddenly his mind cleared. Like a vista revealing itself once the morning mist burns off, he realised that, as he'd discovered over the last week that Elizabeth possessed a beauty of character to rival the beauty of the body that had enraptured him from the start, he'd lost to her what little of his heart she had not already captured the first day they met.

Which would explain why he'd kept finding excuses to put off visiting Sally, he who with his strong appetites usually spent most of his nights in her bed.

It was not just outrage at Holburn's possible treachery or a lustful need to possess. He did pine for Elizabeth. The hold she'd established over his soul that first afternoon had only strengthened over time. He might as well give up trying to protect from her the heart she already held.

Alarming as that thought was, where there was purpose, there was also hope. For the first time, he let the desire to win her he'd firmly stifled every time it struggled for expression cautiously emerge.

He could stand beside Elizabeth and protect her. He could wait while she grieved, let her come to know and appreciate him, endure the agony of uncertainty through the long slow process of discovering whether, in time, she could come to love him as he now admitted he loved her. Though he still dared not allow himself to envision the joy that would be his if one day she did give him her hand.

He came out of his reverie to see Sally watching him, tenderness in her eyes. ‘Are wise. And friend dearer than you know.'

As she leaned over and kissed his forehead, Hal drew her back into his arms. For a long moment she clung to him before pushing him away.

After swiping a hand over the corners of her eyes, Sally gave him a little push. ‘It's late, so you best be getting on. Go foil the villain and win the lady fair, like the heroes always do in them Minerva Press novels. If ever you want to talk, you know I'm ready to listen.'

Hal gave her hand a kiss and stood. He would miss Sally keenly…but she was right. Over the years he'd sometimes thought of marrying her, but something more than the horror of his mother and the discomfort of his friends, were he to do something so socially unforgivable, had always stopped him—the vision of Elizabeth he'd not even fully realised he was cherishing.

Nor did he feel right continuing to visit Sally now that he recognised Elizabeth embodied the dream he wanted to capture. Despite that, sadness and remorse twisted in his chest as he watched Sally, seared by his fondness for her and the conclusion that he must give her up. ‘What of us? If pursue her, can't continue—'

‘'Course not,' she interrupted hastily. ‘Don't you worry about me. Dear as we been to each other, I knew from the first it could never be permanent. You're not the sort of man to keep a mistress after he takes a wife. And scornful of society though you be, heaven knows you could never marry me! I've my friends and, thanks to your goodness, this house and some tidy investments. Maybe I'll buy a little place in the country.'

How brave and uncomplaining she was, sitting there smiling at him. He knew the break between them must pain her as much as it did him, yet she didn't cling to him or try to persuade him to change his mind. Indeed, it was she who'd made him face the truth and urged him to pursue the lady who held his heart. ‘If problem, need me, call. And…thanks, Sally. Better woman than I deserve.'

She gave a watery chuckle. ‘Probably I am, Hal Waterman! Probably I am.'

Hope firing a burst of energy, enthusiasm and excitement within him, he gave her one last kiss and set off across the room.

‘Goodbye, Hal,' she called after him. As the door closed, he heard the merest whisper of something that sounded like ‘my dearest love'.

E
arly the next afternoon, after destroying three neckcloths before he got his cravat tied to his satisfaction, sporting his newest coat and Hessians Jeffers had laboured to polish to a high gleam, Hal arrived at Green Street for his outing with Elizabeth and David.

After the dramatic revelations of the previous evening, he was more nervous than ever at the prospect of being in Elizabeth's company. He'd barely slept last night; all day his emotions had careened from an ecstatic desire to shout his love from the rooftops to a harsh self-rebuke that, despite Sally's kind words, it was highly unlikely the incomparable Elizabeth would ever come to feel similarly enraptured by cloddish Hal Waterman.

Understanding that the final resolution of his relationship with Elizabeth was unlikely to occur for many months yet, he knew he should act as he normally did. Yet by the time of his arrival, his thoughts and sensibilities were still in such chaotic disarray he wasn't sure he knew any longer what ‘normal' was.

Thank heavens David would be with them! If he concentrated upon the boy, made sure everything went smoothly so that mother and son enjoyed themselves, and spoke as little as possible, he should manage to get through the afternoon without making a fool of himself.

Help her, befriend her, play the dependable adviser and casual friend she now thought him and nothing more, he told himself as he paced the blue salon, awaiting their arrival. Above all, stay fiercely on guard, lest the excitement and yearning that being close to her inspired in him should seep out in some expression of fervour or display of desire that might alarm or discomfort her.

His breathing halted and everything else in his world came to a standstill as Elizabeth entered the room. She was clothed all in black, of course, yet the apricot blush of her cheeks and the shining gold of her curls seemed so alive, so vital, in contrast with the dull mourning of her garments. His chest swelled with the sheer joy of her presence as he bowed to her curtsy.

‘David will be down directly. He has been so excited, he could scarcely concentrate on his lesson this morning and so is just now finishing it. Thank you again for your kindness in offering this treat to him. And to me.'

Though her words were correct enough, she seemed somehow ill at ease, while the blue eyes she raised to meet his gaze looked wary.

Instantly Hal went on the alert. Now that the moment to appear in public with him had arrived, did she regret having accepted his invitation? He'd rather attend a dozen evening parties with Mama than have Elizabeth feel constrained in his company.

‘Seem troubled,' he said, a sense of urgency pulling him out of his resolve to remain silent. ‘Still go to Astley's? Not offended if changed mind.'

He couldn't forestall a rush of relief when her face cleared and she shook her head. ‘No, of course not! David has been counting the moments until we could leave since he opened his eyes this morning. As I'm sure you must know, ever since you brought him Max, my son thinks you hung the moon! I hope his exuberant chatter won't overwhelm you.'

Though Hal was more relieved than he should be that she intended to honour their engagement, to his penetrating eye she still seemed uneasy. He didn't wish her to accompany him just to please her son.

‘Not overwhelm me. Enjoy his energy. Sure you equal to it?'

‘I've been looking forward to the performance as well. If I appeared a bit…preoccupied, I apologise. Some trifling household matters, nothing worth speaking about.'

‘Nothing too trifling. Good listener,' he encouraged, marvelling at the strength of his compulsion to eliminate any and all worries that brought a frown to the face of Elizabeth Lowery.

For a moment she looked away, her hands nervously pleating the fabric of her gown. ‘Well…you did say you would advise me. With everything in his world having changed anyway, do…do you think it is a good time to send David away to school? You told me before 'twas quite normal for boys his age to go off to Eton. Though I must admit the very mention of it distresses me, I don't wish to keep him here if it will be detrimental to his future.'

Hal thought of David, the boy's sense of loss still so keen, his well being so fragile despite the love of his mother and the eager companionship of an energetic puppy. The years peeling away, he remembered another grieving little boy's reception at Eton.

He'd been large for his age, ungainly and shackled with the burden of stuttering. Some of the older boys had quickly chosen him as their chief object for ridicule, baiting him with rapid-fire taunts he could not summon the words to refute, mocking his tears of frustration and rage.

‘Stoopid, stoopid, Waterman is stoopid!' Though it had been more than twenty years, Hal could recall with utter clarity the cadence of the chant, the sound of the disdainful voices telling him to ‘cry, cry, cry, like Mama's baby boy'.

If only he had been. If only his mama had wanted him. But Elizabeth did want her son. There was no reason for David to face the trials he'd suffered.

‘No!' he cried so fiercely, Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise. ‘Don't send. Lost father, don't make lose mother too.'

‘You're sure? Painful as it would be to part with him, I know he must grow up and learn to stand on his own, take his place among other young men of his station.'

‘Not man yet. Little boy still. Let him be. Grow up soon enough. Loves you. Let him.'

Apparently reading the distress that must have been evident in his eyes, her expression softened. ‘Were you so very unhappy at school?'

He laughed shortly. ‘Big for age. Clumsy. Boys make me run at them, trip me, laugh. Hanged myself if hadn't found Nicky.'

She pressed her lips together, blinking rapidly. ‘How awful for you. I love David so very much. So…you don't think I would be “pampering” him or indulging myself to keep him here for a while longer?'

Hal shook his head emphatically. ‘Loving him, not pampering. Loving him important. Most important thing in his world.'

She smiled shakily. ‘That, I can easily promise.'

He nodded. ‘Trust own instincts. Will know when old enough to go away. For now, just love him.' Then, wanting to comfort the distress he saw in her eyes, spurred on by emotion too powerful to resist, he took her hand, his gaze locked on her face.

Mr Waterman had told her before that he'd been sent away to school very young. But she'd not realised until this moment that the removal must have occurred very soon after his father's death, nor that the experience had been much more traumatic than he'd previously revealed. Her mother's heart, already troubled at the thought of losing David, welled up with sympathy for the desolate, grieving child Hal had been.

And then he took her hand.

There was nothing outwardly sensual or erotic in the gentle, almost reverent clasp of Hal Waterman's big fingers around her much smaller ones. Yet as he held her eyes with the ferocious strength of his gaze, a surge of physical awareness suddenly pulsed from the warmth of his handclasp throughout Elizabeth's body, resonating between her legs, making her breasts swell and her nipples tingle.

Every sense seemed to heighten. She was intensely aware of the heat emanating from his tall body standing beside her, the strong beat of his pulse against her fingertips, the barely perceptible sound of the curtains stirring on their rods in the breeze from the hallway. For the first time, she noticed the slight scatter of freckles across his cheekbones, the emerging blond stubble of beard, the sparkle of light in the grey eyes that darkened to blue-green at their centres. In the charged silence, she fancied she could almost feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.

The thought made her shiver, intensifying heat and need. An urge more primitive, more powerful than anything she had ever experienced or imagined flooded through her, demanding that she taste, explore. Her fingers itched to bury themselves in the red-gold silk of his hair while she rose on tiptoe and pulled him close enough to brush her aching breasts against his massive chest. She yearned to trace the outline of his lips with her own, tease open his mouth and capture the liquid plush of his tongue against hers, lose herself in the taste of him and the feel of his powerful arms encircling her.

So totally unprecedented and unparalleled was the feeling, she wasn't sure what might have happened next had the door not burst open as David rushed in.

‘Uncle Hal, Uncle Hal, you're here! I'm so happy! Mama, I finished my lesson! Can we go now?'

Did Hal seem as shaken, as reluctant as she to break the contact between them? Struggling to master the shock, relief, and acute disappointment of David's timely—or untimely—interruption, Elizabeth none the less blessed the cheerful artlessness of her son as he chattered on to Hal about his delight at the forthcoming entertainment, giving her time to try to pull together her shattered thoughts and recapture a measure of calm.

David was already urging Hal toward the door. For good or ill, their impending excursion left her no time now to sort out the implications of this extraordinary reaction to Hal Waterman.

But like a stew taken from a boil and left to simmer at the back of the stove, while her nerves slowly settled to a semblance of normality, an acute awareness of him remained, shimmering at the edges of consciousness, occasionally sparking anew whenever he touched her.

She tried to blunt her reaction, telling herself that clasping her elbow to assist her in and out of the carriage and taking her arm to escort her to her seat in the stands at Astley's was mere courtesy, simple acts as polite and impersonal as his holding David's hand to make sure the child did not get separated from them in the throng pushing its way into the large oval amphitheatre.

But the flashes of warmth that sizzled through her body whenever she felt his hands on her continued unabated, both unnerving…and delicious.

In the back of consciousness her censorious mind warned that she ought to be appalled and distressed by this wanton reaction. But led on by the exuberant, milling crowd and her son's excitement, she was too energised by their emergence into the sun and wind of a brisk spring afternoon after long unhappy weeks indoors to tolerate any check upon her spirits. If her escort contributed a large part to the stimulating effect of this excursion, so be it. She intended to savour every pleasure to be derived from this afternoon and worry over its implications later.

And she was enjoying Astley's, much more than she'd expected. David had been shrieking with delight since the first performers took the sawdust floor, directing their troop of trained dogs through various tricks that culminated with the animals running offstage by leaping through rings of fire.

‘Uncle Hal, do you think I can train Max to do that?' he asked eagerly.

‘Needs to master “stay” first,' Hal responded. David must have confided to him the incident with Sir Gregory, Elizabeth thought, her gaze meeting his over the boy's head. Then Hal smiled, sending another tingle through her, almost as potent as those inspired by his touch.

David cried out and pointed, redirecting her attention back to the arena as a group of acrobats tumbled in. Some balanced flaming torches while doing intricate manoeuvres, somersaults and handstands; others juggled balls and other small objects, while a third group formed a human pyramid from whose peak the top man leapt to the floor, twisting and turning his body over and around before landing on his feet to the cheers of the spectators.

The featured equestrian events started next. The first riders galloped past while standing, kneeling or balancing upright on their hands. Other pairs approached from opposite ends of the arena and switched horses as they met in the middle; others rode tandem, one rider facing forward with the other balanced on his shoulders.

The noise of the crowd was too great for Elizabeth to be able to hear the eager comments David was directing into the ear Mr Waterman bent down to him, but Elizabeth expected she would soon be receiving a plea from her son for a pony of his own…as doubtless ‘Uncle Hal' was now being entreated to teach David how to perform such tricks.

Although she herself was uncomfortable around horses, whose tendency to shy or snort or rear unexpectedly she found disconcerting, she had to admire the sleek beauty of their glossy coats, the animals' speed and stamina and the great skill of their riders. As for David, the enthusiasm with which he clutched Mr Waterman's hand, his eyes shining and his face alight with excitement, brought a tender smile to her face.

Mr Waterman was right, Elizabeth thought. She should not deprive herself of these irreplaceable moments to enjoy her growing son. The world of scholarship and the time for living apart could wait until she felt both she and David were ready to move on to it.

As to when that would be, she would rely on her own judgement, as Mr Waterman had recommended. Her smile turned to a chuckle as she marvelled at the novel notion of Elizabeth Lowery, who had spent most of her life being guided by the opinions of others, deciding to proceed on so important a matter based on her own convictions alone.

Just as heartwarming had been watching Hal Waterman interact with her son. He had quickly adjusted his long stride to accommodate David's shorter one as he walked them to the carriage, then gave the boy a little extra toss as he helped him into that vehicle and the stands at Astley's, making David exclaim with delight. Throughout the afternoon, he'd displayed enormous patience, never seeming to tire of the continuous barrage of eager questions and comments with which David peppered him.