An Unsuitable Match (14 page)

Her newly rediscovered love of fashion allowed her to appreciate the way the gold tassels on his highly polished hessian boots matched perfectly with the gold thread of his waistcoat.

His immaculately cut hair was as black as a moonless night.

Other men of the
ton
might dress themselves as well as he did, but few carried themselves with such command. If she had not known him all her life, she might have feared the man who stood before her. Every blink of his eye held the promise of unleashed power.

She swallowed.

David Radley truly was a magnificent male specimen, the pinnacle of English nobility. He stepped forward and took hold of her hand. An easy, reassuring smile came to his lips.

‘I am so glad you came. I know your father is here, so I promise not to keep you too long. I would not wish for you to suffer his wrath on account of me,' he said.

She shook her head. For all her father's failings, he only wanted what was best for her.

‘He is just trying to protect me. He thinks I suffer from a deep melancholy because of my mother's death.'

David raised an eyebrow. ‘And do you?'

‘No. As you can see, I am now fully out of mourning. And as for my nerves, they are perfectly fine. I just have the occasional bout of insomnia, nothing more.'

This was not the time or the place to mention the guilt she still carried. Or why she knew he would never fully love her.

He nodded. ‘I must compliment you, Clarice, on your beautiful new gown. If I am not mistaken, that cameo was once your mother's. I remember her wearing it.'

She watched his eyes as they took in all that stood before him. A secret warmth rippled through her body when his gaze lingered appreciatively at her bustline. Bella had been right to say that Madame de Feuillide knew what she was doing.

He took a deep breath before lifting his head and meeting her gaze.

‘It warms my heart greatly to see you coming back into society. I hope it is a sign that you are thinking and planning with your future in mind.'

He motioned toward a low, floral-patterned couch.

‘Would you like to sit for a moment? There are matters I would discuss if you are amenable?'

Clarice looked at the couch and thought better of the idea. She was already in a very compromising situation. If anyone happened upon them, she would be left with no choice but to marry him.

‘Thank you, no; I cannot stay long. My father has many pairs of eyes in his service.'

He nodded. ‘Very well.' He straightened his back and gave her a small bow.

‘Lady Clarice, as you no doubt have come to realise, the love letter accidentally sent to you by my brother was in fact written by me. While the letter itself came to you by way of a series of unfortunate events, it does not change the fact that the sentiments within it are true.'

He stopped, cleared his throat and frowned. It was obvious his eloquent speech had been rehearsed and somehow he had forgotten the rest of the words. Clarice smiled, humbled by the thought that he had gone to such effort on her behalf.

‘Just say what is in your heart,' she replied.

She saw her wishful smile reflected back at her in his gentle laugh.

‘Clarice, I love you. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I want you as my wife; it is really that simple.'

She nodded. It really
was
that simple. David was not a man who played games with others' feelings. He spoke his mind. Now that he had been honest with her, she trusted his words to be true.

‘Thank you. I know it took a great deal of bravery for you to say that to me,' she replied.

‘But?'

She curled up her bottom lip and sucked it under her top teeth. Over the preceding weeks, alone in her bedroom, she too had rehearsed this encounter, her response constantly changing and evolving.

‘But I am uncertain as to how I should respond,' she replied.

‘Because of your father, or because of who I am?'

She clenched her parasol tightly. Men were such stubborn creatures; why did they always think themselves at the centre of everything?

‘Neither. It is because of me.'

He scowled. She could see this was not the answer he had been expecting or seeking. She slowly loosened her grip.

‘My life, as you can see,' she said, looking down at the figure she cut in her new clothes, ‘is undergoing a transformation. At this moment I am unsure of a lot of things, including how I truly feel about you.'

His shoulders stiffened in disappointment as his arms fell to his sides. She held up a hand.

‘I am not saying that I don't love you. I am just saying I need time. Time to decide what
I
want from my life. Not what you want, nor what my father wants.'

The bewildered look on his face said it all. He had been expecting her to accept or decline him, and had prepared suitable responses for both, but this left him floundering. David was a man of decision and action, and now he was rudderless. The battle was neither won nor lost.

‘I'm sorry if this encounter has not been as productive as you had hoped for, but if you are still serious in your intentions then there are some things you can do to further your cause,' she said.

‘Name them,' came the immediate response.

She allowed herself a moment to let her gaze take in his manly form once more. To indulge with pleasure in the secret knowledge that he wanted her for his own.

Stepping bravely forward, she laid a hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes.

‘I need you to remain steadfast. To accept that I have to take time to make up my mind, and for you to be sure enough of yourself to allow it. Because if I do agree to marry you, we are going to have to fight forces other than my father to make our union a success. There will always be ignorance and intolerance from others.'

He sighed. He was not happy with her demands, but at that moment she knew she held all the cards. He was strong, powerful and oh, so handsome a man – and he was at
her
command.

‘I have lived my entire life dealing with those who do not accept me as a full member of society; I am well equipped to deal with them,' he replied.

She nodded. During the past three years she too had felt an outsider, but that had been due to circumstances beyond her control. Willingly marrying a duke's bastard was an entirely different matter.

‘Yes, I expect you are, but there are other matters that I am not in a position to discuss with you at this time. These may have a greater bearing on your desire to marry me than I can currently predict. What I am asking for is time; if you cannot give me that then this conversation is at an end.'

He reached out and ran the back of his hand down the side of her cheek. He closed his eyes for an instant, and she watched him savour the moment.

If only she could say yes to this man, knowing that her heart was full of love and conviction. The strength and willpower to defy her father could only come from such a steadfast place.

He opened his eyes once more. ‘If I agree to your demands, I expect to be able to add a few of my own conditions. It is only fair.'

Knowing David as she did, she understood it would kill him to let a woman dictate all the terms of an agreement. But if she did eventually decide to marry him, establishing some rules for their ongoing relationship was crucial. Give an English gentleman an inch and he would take the proverbial mile.

A wry grin appeared on his lips. ‘Three conditions, to be precise, starting with this.'

His fingers tugged gently on the ribbons of her bonnet and the bow came undone. He pulled on the bonnet, catching several hairpins. He slipped a hand to her hair and with a flick of his wrist, pulled the pins out. Once he had the bonnet free, he tossed both bonnet and pins and onto the nearby couch. Several pins clattered to the floor. He took hold of her parasol and set it down next to her bonnet.

He laughed, deep and sensual, as he reached for her hands and removed her gloves.

‘It's a good thing Lucy is keeping watch close by, she may need to help you find the rest of the pins when we are done.'

‘Done with what?' Clarice replied.

‘This,' he replied, his voice confident. He slid a hand under the nape of her neck and, bending his head, set his hot lips to hers. The warmth of his lips and the heady scent of his cologne enveloped her in a world in which she was powerless.

‘Open your lips,' he murmured. A moment later his tongue swept into her mouth.

They both moaned.

His mouth worked over her soft and pliant lips. She grasped the lapels on the front of his jacket and pulled him closer. The passionate words of the love letter, permanently seared into her brain, roared to life. His other hand slid down her back and when it reached her bottom, he gripped tightly and pulled her against him in an open display of possession.

Immediately she felt the hardness of his body. His strong muscles held her imprinted against his length. On the side of her hip, the telltale sign of his sexual arousal pushed against her. She gasped and tightened her grip on his clothes.

At twenty-three, she knew enough to understand the powerful effect she was having on him. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. To know he wanted her, that he lusted after her, was intoxicating. No champagne had ever made her feel this heady.

She kissed him back with every ounce of passion and desire she could muster. Temptation and instinct now overruled her previous resolve. Her hungry lips moved in furious agreement with his. Danger and risk meant nothing compared to the flames his passion had ignited. Her whole body screamed for her to succumb to this moment, to give in to his masterful command.

‘David,' she whispered as she released his lips and began to trail small butterfly kisses across his cheek and down his jawline.

‘Don't stop,' he moaned, and gripped her more tightly to him.

A shrill whistle broke the moment. He froze and growled with disappointment. He released his grip and stepped back.

‘That was the warning signal. Someone is coming.'

Clarice hurried over to the couch and picked up her bonnet. A moment later Lucy's face appeared at the window and she tapped on the glass. David opened the door and Lucy poked her head inside.

‘Some other guests are heading down to the lake. Alex and Millie are delaying them as best they can,' she said. Her gaze drifted from Clarice's bonnet to her ruffled hair. She smiled. Her matchmaking plans were moving along nicely.

‘Give us a minute or two more and then come back,' he replied. Lucy nodded and quickly closed the door.

He walked over to where Clarice was picking up the scattered pins. She turned as he reached her side. Putting a hand into his jacket pocket, he withdrew a small box.

‘It would soothe my wounded pride if you would accept this gift, Clarice,' he said.

He opened the box and took out a long gold chain. On the end of the chain was a black onyx orb held in place by a gold bail. He offered it to her.

She shook her head.

‘Please understand I am serious when I say I need time to consider my future. If I take that necklace, you will expect me to wear it. You will think it confirms something that has not yet come to pass. Something that may not.'

She held a finger to her swollen lips. Allowing him to kiss her senseless had only further complicated the situation.

‘I do not seek to tease you, David; you know I would never do that.'

He held out the necklace once more. ‘Then take it. Take it as a symbol of our agreement. If you decide you do not want me, you may give it back at some future point.'

Lucy rapped on the door once more and Clarice knew it was now or never.

‘Very well,' she sighed and taking the necklace from him, she held it in her hand. She was adamant in her resolve although it was clear David was not happy.

She studied the black and gold pendant. While the gold was cold to her touch, the onyx warmed quickly, absorbing the heat from her hand. She hesitated, unsure as to whether she should keep it. David placed a warm, tender kiss on the back of her neck, and she shivered. He whispered into her ear, his hot breath further threatening to muddle her mind.

‘Do you like it? The onyx is the symbol of powerful love, which is why we have black on our family coat of arms. We Radleys love deeply those whom we take to our hearts.'

She turned and faced him. ‘David, it's beautiful. Are those the Strathmore stars on the bail?'

He nodded. ‘How observant of you. Yes they are; it's a family heirloom. I may not be my father's heir, but I am still his firstborn and I claimed this necklace especially for you. I hope to see you wearing it very soon.'

She nodded. He would continue to promote his cause for as long as it took to gain her acceptance. She slipped the necklace into her reticule.

‘We have an agreement, and I expect you to keep to your side of it,' she said.

As the necklace dropped to the bottom of the rose-coloured satin bag, David took hold of her hand.

‘There is one final condition of our agreement, and this is probably the most important,' he said.

‘Yes?' she replied, looking at her hand held within his.

‘You must do whatever is required to avoid Thaxter Fox. If he offers for you, you must refuse him. If your father starts to make arrangements for you to marry him, you must fight. Can you do that for me? For us?'

She rose up on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek.

‘I may not be certain of much at present, but rest assured I will
never
marry Thaxter Fox,' she vowed.

He gave her one last kiss on the lips and whispered, ‘Thank you,' as Lucy knocked once more on the door.

By the time Alex and Millie arrived at the summerhouse, Lucy had fixed Clarice's hair. Her gloves and bonnet were back in place. The two girls were seated serenely side by side on the couch chatting, while David stood a respectable distance away from them on the other side of the room.