Lady Beauchamp's Proposal (43 page)

Sometimes she missed James so much it hurt
to breathe.

She surreptitiously dabbed at her eyes with
her sleeve—she didn’t want to invite questions from Nanny
Robinson—then turned her back on the swans and the lake.

Only to see her whole world blown into a
million, jagged pieces.

Bowling along the path at a cracking pace,
in the direction from which they had just come, was a stylish black
curricle. And the man driving the fine pair of matched greys was
none other than James.

But he wasn’t alone.

Seated beside him, clinging to his arm, was
an exceptionally beautiful, dark-haired young woman, dressed in the
height of fashion.

“Slow down, James,” the woman admonished on
a peal of breathless laughter as they flashed past her.

James. She’d called him James
.

Elizabeth pushed her gloved fist against her
mouth to stifle the involuntary sob that rose in her throat. Her
worst nightmare had come true. James had moved on.

And she only had herself to blame.

Blindly, she stumbled onto the path and
turned in the direction of home.

“Lady Beauchamp…my lady.” Nanny Robinson
called after her, but she couldn’t stop. She had to get away from
here before she collapsed into a heap on the muddy ground.

It had been over ten months—almost a year
really—since she and James had parted. She should be happy for him.
This is what she’d wanted for him.

But that had been before Hugh had died.

She was not far from the main gates when she
heard the thunder of hooves drawing closer and the whicker of a
horse.

“Beth. Beth, stop…wait…”

At the sound of that deep voice, the most
loved voice in the world, she stumbled to a halt by an oak tree and
grabbed hold of its trunk, her heart pounding in her ears, her
breathing ragged and uneven.

Foolish, Elizabeth. Why are you doing this
to yourself?

She really had no idea. It was as if her
body had a will apart from hers. Her feet seemed to be rooted to
the spot like the oak she clutched, her body unable to resist the
powerful, magnetic pull of the man whom she now sensed close behind
her.

“Beth…”

She felt his hand on her arm; the contact
burned through the wool of her sleeve and her whole body shivered.
Trembled, like the leaves above her. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t
turn around. Seeing him again, with that other woman would just
kill her.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she somehow dragged
in enough air to speak. “I…I’m sure the woman you’re with…your
companion is quite lovely, James, and I should wish you every
happiness…but please…” She choked back a sob. “Please, just let me
go…”

James’s grip on her firmed. “Never again,
you beautiful ninnyhammer.”

Ninnyhammer?

Elizabeth whirled around to face James. Even
though the corner of his wide mouth had tipped into a smile, there
was the unmistakable sheen of tears in his dark brown eyes.

“I’m sorry I took so long to get to London,
my love,” he murmured, reaching forward to stroke her wet cheek
with the back of his fingers. “But with all the rain we’ve had, the
roads were an absolute quagmire. And then my sister, Helena…” and
he inclined his head back towards the woman still seated in the
curricle on the opposite side of the path, “…slowed proceedings
down by insisting on dragging the whole family along to London as
well. But I must say, her presence did help immensely when I
arrived at Harcourt House. Your butler wouldn’t say where you were,
or when you were expected back until my dear sister unleashed her
charms on him.”

Elizabeth swallowed, hardly daring to
believe what her ears had just heard. “That’s…the lady with
you…she’s your sister?”

James ran a long finger down her nose then
lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his dark, soft-as-velvet gaze.
“Yes, just my sister… Surely you know that my heart belongs to you.
And only you.”

Elizabeth bit her lip and heat crept into
her cheeks. As he stood before her, his gaze drinking in her
features like she was the only thing in the world that could
sustain him, she realized how truly foolish she’d been to doubt
him.
A ninnyhammer indeed.

Nevertheless, she felt compelled to defend
herself, even just a little. “I told you to forget me,” she said,
her voice no more than a husky whisper of sound.

He smiled gently and brushed his thumb
across her trembling lower lip. “As if I ever could.”

Apparently indifferent to the more than
curious glances of passers-by on the path behind them, James
suddenly pulled loose the violet ribbons beneath her chin, and then
cast her bonnet to the ground. “I hope you’re not terribly fond of
that hat,” he murmured as one of his hands slid into the artfully
arranged curls at the nape of her neck. “Because I think it just
landed in a puddle.”

“What hat?” James could have thrown
her
into the puddle right at this moment and Elizabeth
wouldn’t have minded.

Without conscious thought, her gaze flitted
to his wide, oh-so tempting mouth, and in an instant, James’s
amused expression changed.

His gaze darkened and became entirely
focused on her lips. “My beautiful Beth,” he groaned, his voice
hoarse with longing. He raised his other hand and caressed her
tear-stained cheek. “God, how I’ve missed you.” And then, at long
last, he kissed her.

The instant James’s lips touched hers,
luscious warmth washed through Elizabeth’s entire body, curling her
toes, and rendering her boneless.

Such a perfect, rapturous, delicious
kiss
.

With sinuous slowness his mouth glided over
hers, soft as silk, while his tongue languidly explored the
recesses of her mouth. When his teeth pulled gently on her lower
lip she was unable to suppress a moan.

Yes.
She didn’t care they were in the
middle of Hyde Park, in the middle of the afternoon making a
spectacle of themselves for all the world to see. Because this was
true and this was real. And this was what she’d craved all of those
long, lonely nights she’d lain awake just aching for James. The
intoxicating taste of him. The dark spicy scent of him. The feel of
his strong, lean body beneath her hands.

Her pulse raced and her heart sparked to
life. It was as if the sun had come out again.

“Lady Beauchamp?”

James broke the kiss and they both turned to
find Nanny Robinson, mouth agape, standing a few feet away with the
perambulator. The sage footman, an older man who had been in the
employ of the Beauchamp household for an eon, stood further behind,
intently studying the wet grass beneath his feet.

The obviously horrified nurse glanced at
James, blushed furiously, then focused on her mistress again. “My
lady…I’m…I’m so terribly sorry to have…interrupted…”

Despite the fact that she knew she looked
like a woman who had been flagrantly well-kissed, Elizabeth
summoned a smile. “That’s quite all right, Nanny Robinson. I expect
you were just concerned about me.”

The nurse nodded furiously. “If you w-would
like, my lady,” she stammered, her gaze flickering to James again
before returning to her, “I could take Lady Jane for a turn about
the rose garden…”

“Soon, Nanny Robinson.” Suddenly feeling
breathlessly shy, but bubbling with happiness at the same time,
Elizabeth turned to James. She was delighted to see that he looked
almost boyishly anxious with anticipation as well. She took his
hand. “Come and meet Lady Jane Elizabeth, Lord Rothsburgh.”

James followed her over to the perambulator
and looked down at his sleeping daughter. She saw him swallow and
heard his breath catch as he gently touched one of Jane’s rosy baby
cheeks with the tip of a finger.

“She’s as beautiful as her mother,” he
murmured. When he looked up at Elizabeth, she noticed his eyes were
unnaturally bright. It was suddenly difficult for her to see
clearly through the sudden mist that had appeared in her eyes as
well.

Behind the shield of the perambulator’s
side, one of James’s hands suddenly slid to the plane of her belly.
“Next time, my love,” he whispered against her ear, “I will take
great delight in watching your belly grow large and round, and I
will not miss a single thing.”

Next time…Oh my…
She felt her cheeks
grow warm, but she did not have time to dwell on the implications
of what he’d just said as his sister, Lady Maxwell, called out.

“All right, James, you’ve had first look.
Please come and help me down from this wickedly high curricle. I
don’t wish to break my neck before I get to see the baby.”

James laughed and after dodging a passing
barouche, crossed over to his sister and helped her to alight.

Helena, tall and graceful as a willow,
approached Elizabeth and grasped her hand between hers. “Lady
Beauchamp. I’m Helena, James’s sister,” she said smiling. “It’s
such a pleasure to meet you at long last. I’ve heard so much about
you from my dear brother.”

“Oh…it’s lovely to meet you as well, Helena.
And please, call me Beth.” She wondered how much James had told
Helena about their…situation. Probably everything, knowing
James.

But Helena was smiling at her with such warm
sincerity, it was obvious that she didn’t give a farthing about
their far-from-conventional history. And now she wanted to meet
Jane.

“Thank you, Beth.” Helena’s wide elegant
mouth, not dissimilar to James’s, curved into another smile. “I
must confess, since James told me about Jane’s arrival, I’ve been
dying to meet her. Would you mind if I take a peek at her too?”

“Of course you can,” Beth said smiling back
at the lovely woman. “And when she wakes, you are more than welcome
to a hold.”

Helena’s eyes glowed. “Oh, I’d love
that.”

“Not before me you won’t,” James growled
playfully at his sister.

Helena poked her tongue at him then dropped
her gaze to Jane. As they all looked into the perambulator, the
still sleeping baby grimaced a little, then pushed her tiny baby
thumb into her mouth and began to suck.

“Oh heavens. She’s gorgeous,” whispered
Helena. She looked up and gave Beth a dazzling smile, her brown
eyes, a shade or two lighter than James’s, twinkling with
merriment. “I know this may sound awfully presumptuous, even
wicked—and I wouldn’t suggest this at all except I suspect that you
and James have a bit of catching up to do—but would you mind
terribly if I stole Jane and your nurse, and took a turn about the
rose garden over there?”

Beth smiled. “Not at all. Take as much time
as you like.”

James pointed an admonishing finger at his
sister and gave a mock frown. “Remember I get first hold.”

Helena rolled her eyes but continued
smiling. “So bossy. I really don’t know what you see in him,
Beth.”

As Nanny, the footman, and Helena wandered
away, James grasped Beth’s hand and led her over to the side of the
path again, beneath the shade of the oak, but on the other side of
the trunk this time, away from the prying eyes of passers-by.

Beth’s heart began to pound in earnest when
he next stripped off her gloves, stuffed them in his pocket, and
then took her hands in his again.

“That’s better,” James said, his deep voice
a caress in itself. “I’ve missed holding your hands.” He stroked
his thumbs along the underside of her wrists, sending hot shivers
through her, then raised her fingertips to his lips.

“Only my hands?” she replied on an oddly
choked voice as a strange combination of laughter, tears and
breathless desire bubbled in her throat.

Fire sparked in his eyes. “No. But if I
start describing to you now everything that I’ve missed, we’d be
standing under this tree for the rest of the day and all night. It
would probably be better if I just showed you afterwards.”

Afterwards? After what?

Still holding her hands and her gaze, James
descended to one knee before her.

Beth’s breath caught as a heady thrill of
anticipation flared inside her.

James’s eyes were shining as he looked up at
her. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and his voice, when he
spoke, was uncharacteristically unsteady. “Beth, do you recall that
I made a vow to you once?”

She nodded, breathless. “Of course.”

He smiled, his dark eyes fixed intently on
hers. “I think it’s about time that I made good on that promise.
Beth, love of my heart, light of my life. Will you do me the untold
honor of consenting to marry me?”

Beth swallowed, and then drew in a shaky
breath as she prepared to respond, not even bothering to blink away
the tears of joy that suddenly brimmed in her eyes. There was no
reason in the world that she couldn’t at last answer James with the
one precious word she’d always longed to say to him.

“Yes.”

Amy Rose Bennett has always wanted to be a
writer for as long as she can remember. An avid reader with a
particular love for historical romance, it seemed only natural to
write stories in her favorite genre. She has a passion for creating
emotion-packed—and sometimes a little racy—stories set in the
Georgian and Regency periods. Of course, her strong-willed heroines
and rakish heroes always find their happily ever after.

As an unpublished author, Amy has been a
finalist in contests in both Romance Writers of Australia and
Romance Writers of America. In 2013 and 2014, she achieved a place
in the top three of Romance Writers of Australia’s Emerald Award,
and her debut Regency romance novel—‘
Lady Beauchamp’s
Proposal
’—was the winning entry in the historical section of
two Romance Writers of America Chapter Contests in 2013—the Chicago
North Fire and Ice Contest and the San Francisco Heart to Heart
Contest.

Amy is happily married to her own Alpha male
hero, has two beautiful daughters, a rather loopy Rhodesian
Ridgeback and a Devonshire Rex cat with attitude. She is a Speech
Pathologist, but is currently devoting her time to her one other
true calling—writing romance.