Lady Beauchamp's Proposal (35 page)

Oh Christ. What have I done?

He raised himself onto his forearms and his
eyes traced over her perfect features; her eyes were closed and
there was a gentle smile on her lips. Shattering her afterglow was
the last thing he wanted to do. But he had to.

He forced himself to speak. “Beth…”

* * * *

At the sound of her name, Elizabeth pried
open her drowsy eyelids and smiled up at James. She could lie like
this all day, in his warm embrace. It was absolute bliss.

Or it would be, if it wasn’t for the tense
expression on James’s face. His dark eyes were troubled and a
muscle flickered in his cheek as he stared down at her.

Her heart clenched. They’d just shared the
most earth-shattering, loving sex one could ever hope for. What
could possibly be wrong?

“James?” she whispered, unable to mask the
uncertainty in her voice. Whatever he was going to say, it clearly
wasn’t good. “Tell me what’s the matter?”

He searched her eyes. Swallowed. “Beth…I
wasn’t careful…I forgot to withdraw…I’m so sorry, my love.”

Oh.

No, he hadn’t. She could still feel him
inside her and the stickiness of his seed between her legs. She had
been so swept away and then so deeply satisfied by James’s
lovemaking, that she hadn’t noticed at all.

James continued. “I understand if you’re
angry. I’ve broken my promise to you—”

“Shhh.” She placed a finger on his lips.
“I’m not angry. It will be all right. I…I never became pregnant
during my marriage. Not that I ever had intercourse very much. But
I’ve always suspected that I’m barren.”

“But you don’t know that for certain. What
if I get you with child?”

How would she feel? Until this moment she
had never really considered it. She stroked James’s deliciously
messy hair away from his damp, furrowed brow and studied his tense,
handsome face. If she was truly honest with herself, the idea of
bearing this wonderful man a son or daughter filled her with a
strange poignant joy rather than horror.

“Then I will love our child, come what may,”
she replied softly. “Because it is yours and I love you. We will
work out what to do…if such a miracle ever happens. I trust you,
James.”

James’s eyes suddenly became bright with the
sheen of tears. “God, you are an amazing woman, Beth.” His voice
was thick with emotion. “The angels were smiling on me the day you
crossed my doorstep.”

He lowered his head and kissed her softly
until her toes curled.

When he broke the kiss, he sought her gaze
again. His expression firmed. “Know this Beth, if we should have a
child together, I will talk to the best legal minds in the land. I
will do whatever I can to make sure our child is provided for, even
if he or she can never bear my name.” He took another breath. This
time when he spoke, his voice shook a little. “And I swear that one
day, I will marry you.”

Elizabeth’s heart swelled with so much love,
she thought it might burst as she recognized the strength of
James’s conviction. He would stand by her, no matter what the
future had in store. He must truly love her.

She swallowed and fought back sudden tears
of joy. Her voice when it emerged was husky with emotion. “That
sounds like another proposal of sorts.”

James’s dark eyes shone as he steadily held
her gaze. “It’s more than that, Beth. It’s a vow.”

Edinburgh, Scotland, November 1815

“There she is. Helena assured me they would
all be out for a walk today.”

Elizabeth peered through the fine black
netting shrouding her face, in the direction James had indicated,
toward the eastern gate of the Queen Street Gardens. Even after a
month of being in Edinburgh, she still didn’t feel comfortable
showing her face in public in case anyone that she knew from her
former life recognized her. The
ton
had eyes and ears
everywhere, even this far north, of that she was absolutely
certain. And as much as she longed to throw back her veil so she
could clearly see the little blonde girl ahead, she just couldn’t
take the risk. Not when she had found so much happiness in her new
life with James.

He was everything to her.

James tucked her gloved hand into the crook
of his arm, then gently urged her forward along the path strewn
with dark sodden leaves, toward the small group headed their
way—three small children, the youngest tucked into a pile of
blankets in an elaborate perambulator, two plainly dressed women
who were most likely nurse and governess, and a liveried
footman—carrying a doll in the crook of his arm—trailing
behind.

Even though it was cold enough to make their
breath turn to mist, the afternoon held fair; a rare occurrence for
a late autumn day in Edinburgh, James had informed her, when they
had first set out on foot from her newly rented, beautifully
appointed townhouse in nearby Herriot Row. Indeed, over the last
few weeks since they had quit Dundee for the capital, it had rained
nearly every day.

Not that Elizabeth had minded overly much,
if at all. Not when she had spent long lazy days at home with
James, talking, laughing, reading and making love whenever they
fancied.

Of course, they had braved the elements on
occasions. Soon after their arrival in town, James had insisted on
taking her to a series of private appointments with Edinburgh’s
finest modistes and milliners along the Royal Mile in the Old Town.
But aside from all of the exquisite silk, satin, velvet and fine
woolen gowns, and other fripperies he had lavished on her, and that
she could only wear for him in the privacy of her townhouse, he’d
also purchased her a new wardrobe of the finest black garments that
guineas and pounds could buy. Although he was not overly happy that
she still insisted on wearing widow’s weeds and veiled bonnets in
public, he could see the sense in her determination to remain
incognito. For now.

She suddenly shivered. Even though she was
perfectly warm in her black merino dress and well-cut matching
coat, black kid gloves and walking boots, it wasn’t the icy bite in
the air that caused the frisson. She was about to meet James’s
daughter.

Hugh’s daughter.

James halted their progress beneath a
gnarled oak, its bare branches casting strange black fingers of
shadow across the strong planes of his face. “I know you’re
apprehensive, my love,” he murmured close to her ear. “If you’d
prefer to turn back—”

“No. It’s fine, James,” she said,
endeavoring to keep a steady voice. “It’s just that…I’m not sure
how I feel to be honest.”

She paused and glanced up the path. The
small party was getting closer; Annabelle was only fifty yards away
now. “No, that’s not quite true,” she said turning back to him. “I
feel strange.” She tried to smile then, even though her veil must
obscure her expression. “I’m also worried that I’ll frighten
Annabelle off. She might think I’m a frightful witch dressed like
this, all in black.”

James looked over her shoulder and quickly
scanned the park. “There’s no one else here, Beth. It’s a private
park. So if it makes you feel better, I’m sure it will be safe to
lift your veil.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She began to lift
the netting, but James stilled her hands.

“Wait,” he murmured. “Allow me.”

He gently raised the veil over her black
bonnet, and Elizabeth was so vividly reminded of a groom lifting
the veil on his bride, her breath caught in her throat.

If only it could be so.

He caught her gaze and a smile lifted the
corner of his mouth. “Remember my vow, Beth,” he said in a low,
velvet-soft tone. “One day—”

A squeal of delight pierced the air. “Papa!”
Annabelle was hurtling along the path towards them, her golden
blonde curls flying out behind her, the color as bright as the
first daffodils of spring.

James laughed and bent to catch the child
who flew into his arms like a small, royal-blue wool clad
cannonball, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Annabelle, my bonnie
lassie.” He swung her around in his arms and she squealed with
laughter again.

What an extraordinarily beautiful child who
looked nothing like James, but exactly like Hugh. Elizabeth blinked
away tears, overwhelmed by the sharp pull and prick of conflicting
emotions in her heart. Sadness for James and Annabelle, anger at
Hugh. Sorrow for herself that if things between her and Hugh had
been different, then perhaps she would have been the one to bear
him such a lovely child. Not another man’s wife.

“I’m so sorry…Lord Rothsburgh.” One of the
women had rushed over, her cheeks flushed with high color. Then she
scowled in admonishment at the giggling child in his arms. “Lady
Annabelle, where are your manners?”

“It’s quite all right, Miss Palmer,” replied
James, smiling at the flustered young woman whose entire face then
turned beet-red, undoubtedly due to being the recipient of such
dazzling regard. “My Lady Annabelle hasn’t seen as much of me as
she ought. And such is the exuberance of the very young. I am
willing to make allowances on this occasion if you will also.”

“Yes, my lord.” Miss Palmer curtsied, then
cast Elizabeth a small, slightly speculative glance. “My lady.”

My lady
. The governess had assumed
she was someone of consequence because of the company she was
keeping. Ignoring the tightening knot of unease inside her,
Elizabeth tried to keep her expression pleasantly neutral as she
inclined her head in acknowledgement. How on earth
was
James
going to introduce her to Annabelle, indeed anyone, in a way that
would even sound vaguely acceptable? One didn’t usually introduce
one’s mistress to one’s family. And even though she’d been here a
month, it wasn’t until today that James had put forward the idea of
meeting his daughter.

She suddenly wondered if James had also
informed his brother-in-law and sister, Lord and Lady Maxwell of
her presence in Edinburgh. Now that would be highly awkward. It
would be better for all concerned if he hadn’t.

The sound of James’s voice cut through her
tangled thoughts. He was addressing the curious governess again.
“That will be all for now, Miss Palmer.”

“Yes, my lord.”

As Miss Palmer turned to go back to her
other charges, Annabelle turned her bright, summer blue gaze on
Elizabeth. “Papa, is this the lady you’ve been telling me
about?”

James nodded and continued to smile warmly,
obviously unperturbed that he was about to introduce his daughter
to his mistress. “Indeed, she is.”

He bent down and placed Annabelle onto the
path beside him. “Annabelle, allow me to introduce my friend, Mrs.
Eliott. Mrs. Eliott, may I present my daughter, Lady Annabelle
Huntly.”

Elizabeth swept into a polite curtsy. “It’s
a pleasure to meet you, Lady Annabelle.”

Annabelle smiled back, a dimple in her
cheek. “It’s lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Eliott.” Tipping her
head, she then looked up at James. “Papa. She is even prettier than
you said. Can she come to visit us at Maxwell House this
afternoon?”

Before he could respond, Annabelle grasped
Elizabeth’s hand and began to bounce up and down. “Would you like
to share tea with me, Mrs. Eliott? Cook makes the most excellent
tea-cake. And I’m sure Uncle Phillip and Aunt Helena wouldn’t mind
at all.”

James ruffled her curls. “Mrs. Eliott is
rather busy at present. Perhaps another time, my sweet.”

Elizabeth sighed inwardly with relief. So he
hadn’t mentioned her to his sister or brother-in-law. She cast him
a grateful smile and he smiled back, his brown eyes warm with
reassurance.

But Annabelle was pouting. She tugged on
Elizabeth’s hand. “Well, at least come and meet my cousins, Charlie
and Phillipa, Mrs. Eliott. Although Phillipa is rather grumpy at
the moment. Miss MacFarlane, that’s our nurse—although we call her
Nanny—she says Phillipa is cutting a tooth. And you must come and
see my doll, Miss Miranda. Papa brought her all the way back from
Bruges. Fergus is holding her for me.”

Elizabeth summoned a smile, trying not to
notice that Annabelle’s eyes were the exact shade of blue as
Hugh’s. “That would be lovely, Lady Annabelle. But perhaps we could
take a turn about the park first.”

“A wonderful idea, Mrs. Eliott,” agreed
James. “I’ve heard there is a pair of mute swans in Farmer Wood’s
Cattle Pond. You and Annabelle go on ahead while I speak to Miss
Palmer and Miss MacFarlane, and say hello to my niece and nephew. I
won’t be long.”

“Ooh, mute swans. I do love swans don’t you,
Mrs. Eliott?” enthused Annabelle, pulling Elizabeth down the path
in the direction of the pond.

“Yes, I do too.” Elizabeth followed
Annabelle’s lead, quite bemused yet thoroughly enchanted as she
listened to the young girl unselfconsciously prattle away about
this and that. To think that she had originally travelled all the
way to Eilean Tor on the off-chance of becoming a governess to this
lovely, spirited child. Hugh’s child. A child that God-willing
would one day be her daughter as well. She could scarcely fathom
it.

Within minutes they came across the pond,
dark and still beneath the shadows of the surrounding oaks. And as
James had predicted, there were the two swans, floating upon the
glass-like surface of the water, their graceful necks arched toward
each other like a pair of lovers.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” whispered
Annabelle.

“Yes they are,” Elizabeth agreed softly.
Even though she knew she was being ridiculously mawkish, she was
suddenly unaccountably envious of their quiet, simple solitude.
“It’s a shame that we haven’t any bread to feed them.”

Annabelle smiled. “I’m sure Nanny or Miss
Palmer will have brought some.”

A sudden movement amongst the bare trees on
the far side of the pond caught Elizabeth’s eye. A man, dressed in
dark clothing emerged from the copse, and started to skirt the edge
of the pond, heading their way. Although there was nothing overtly
sinister about his appearance or purposeful stride, fear prickled
beneath Elizabeth’s skin. She gripped Annabelle’s hand and pulled
her a little closer.