Miss Featherton's Christmas Prince (The Marriage Game Book 9) (15 page)

When Damon had been at school, the Bellamny house had been his salvation. It had taken some doing, but he had managed to spend most of his holidays here, without the duke’s knowledge. During those years, he had learned more at his lordship’s knee about being a man than from all the punishments he had endured from his father.

“Thank you, sir. I will plan to visit more often.”

 

After dinner, Meg sought out Daphne, yet Meg’s gaze strayed to the door each time she heard a sound that could be the gentlemen joining them. At first she attempted to tell herself she was waiting for Amanda, who had not joined them for dinner. Yet the truth was Meg could not be still until Hawksworth arrived.

She encouraged Daphne to talk about her new house, the baby she was sure would be a boy, and, of course, her husband, who was perfect in every way. Several times she started to say something, then blushed and changed the subject. It was then that Meg remembered, with more than a little irritation, that her friend would be holding back some information because she was still unwed. When she was eighteen, and even nineteen, she had accepted the idea that maidens should be kept in the dark when it came to relations between men and women. But the past year had made her impatient with that way of thinking. Although to be fair, it was her miserable experience with Swindon and Tarlington that caused her change of mind.

The door opened, and all their heads turned toward it. Preceding the gentlemen were the Hillers and the Grantvilles. Then all her attention was riveted on Hawksworth. He and Fotheringale headed directly to her and Daphne.

Fotheringale took his wife’s hand. “Forgive us for being so long. Sir Randolph received a letter about more riots that have taken place.”

Meg looked at Hawksworth. “Where?”

“In the north. With the laws the government has, it is no wonder, but Lady Bellamny will not appreciate our bringing that debate into her drawing room on Christmas Eve.”

As far as Meg was concerned, it was this type of discussion that ought to dominate the conversation, but he was right. It would not be welcome.

Footmen started snuffing the candles, and a huge, shallow silver bowl filled with brandy and raisins was set on a round table that had been placed in the middle of the room. The purpose of the game was to pick out the raisins and not get burned as one ate them.

She placed her fingers in Hawksworth’s hand, and rose. “It is time for Snap Dragon.”

“That bowl is large enough to accommodate everyone.” He wasted no time in finding a place at the table. The Fotheringales were on one side of them and the Culpeppers on the other side. Across the table, Amanda wiggled her fingers at Meg, and mouthed, “I will tell you soon.”

Soon the only light in the long room came from the fireplaces at either end. Then the brandy was lit, creating an eerie blue blaze.

Meg gave a shiver of delight as she reached out and plucked a burning raisin from the bowl. Hawksworth got two of them, handing one to her. Then she did the same.

“You’re very good at this.” His voice was warm with praise.

“So are you.” Even though the fire burned off most of the alcohol in the brandy, the flavor was still strong.

Shrieks of laughter filled the room, as he leaned close to her. “A passionate game.”

Oooh, she was going to murder him right here. Not wanting anyone else listening, she kept her voice low. “We have already had this discussion.” Easing herself out of the circle, she murmured, “I need some air.”

Hawksworth caught up to Meg at the end of the long terrace. “What is it about passion you do not like?”

She closed her eyes and counted to ten before turning to face him. “What has passion to do with anything?”

He prowled slowly toward her. The torches reflected the fire lurking in his eyes, making him more dangerous than ever before. She took a step back toward the wall, and before she knew it her back had hit the cold stone.

“If you do not want love, you must at least have passion.” Bracing his hand on the wall next to her cheek, he leaned forward until his breath caressed her face. It was sweet with raisins and brandy.

Nervously, she licked her lips. Would her breath smell the same? “I want . . . I want . . .” Oh God! Why was it so difficult to articulate what she desired and that it did not include him? “I do not need passion. I want respect from a man who will never betray me.” Not someone who made her head spin and stirred strange feelings in her body and heart. “I want a calm life and children.”

“Children.” He spoke the word as if it had made his argument. “And how do you plan on getting children?”

How dare he mention what went on between a man and a woman? Her sister-in-law had given Meg some information. Still, an uncomfortable heat rose in her neck and face as she realized that he probably knew much more about the subject than she ever would.

Unable to stop the threadiness in her voice, she forced the words out. “In the usual way.”

Before she knew it, his lips were next to hers. “You have no idea.” The tip of his tongue trailed languidly along her bottom lip, and her knees began to turn to marmalade. “Will you lie in your cold bed with your nightgown on while your husband ruts?”

She should be shocked. No one had ever talked to her like this. The image Damon brought up held no appeal. Mary had said when a man and woman loved one another . . . But that was not something Meg would have.

His wicked tongue moved from her mouth to her ear, as he whispered, “Or do you want to scream as he takes you to heaven and back?”

How weak did he think she was? Despite her shock, she managed to answer. “I never scream.”

Damon chuckled, a low, sinful sound. “I’d make you scream and enjoy doing it.”

She was sinking, and she had to find a way to fight back before she lost the argument and herself. “You will never have the opportunity.”

He smiled, his teeth flashing white. “Afraid of what you might feel?”

“Do not be ridiculous. I feel nothing for you, or any other man. I refuse to.”

“Poor Meg.” His finger caressed her jaw. The palm of his hand cupped her cheek, as she had dreamed about doing to him, and he pressed his lips to hers.

His mouth was open and hot, but not wet. She opened her lips to tell him that she had not given him permission to use her name, but his tongue invaded, and conquered, and she was lost in the heat that speared through her from her breasts to her thighs as he explored her mouth.

She should pull away. She should slap him. Instead she slid her arms up over his shoulders, allowing her fingers to play with his soft, waving hair as she pressed her body to his.

He slanted his head, and Meg moaned. Even through the layers of muslin and velvet, she felt the hard warmth of his chest. His arms wrapped around her, and his legs pressed against hers. Then his tongue stroked hers, insisting she return the caress. An urgent throbbing started low in her belly. She should stop, but she didn’t want to.

This was what she would be giving up by marrying Lord Throughgood. He would never hold her like this, kiss her like this. No one had ever kissed her as Hawksworth did. Other than on her hand, Tarlington had not even attempted a kiss.

She gave a small sob, and he lifted his head, capturing her gaze with his fathomless dark eyes. “That is passion.”

Before she could formulate any sort of coherent answer, soft voices drifted from the stairs down to the garden. She glanced over. Amanda and Lord Throughgood were locked in an embrace.

A chill ran through her, sobering her as quickly as if she had been doused with snow. “You knew.”

“Yes. Miss Hiller would not tell you because she did not wish to hurt your feelings.”

Hawksworth’s arms had not dropped, nor had he moved away.

“How could I not have seen it? She is my dearest friend. We have known one another forever.”

“Sometimes when we have decided on a course of action, we become blind to all else.”

I
n Damon’s arms, Meg struggled to break away, but he held her fast. If he let go of her now, he might never have a chance to tell her how he felt.

“What have I done?” Her tone echoed the despair she must have been experiencing since she learned of Tarlington’s betrayal. “You and Lord Throughgood must think me an absolute fool.”

“No.” He kissed the top of her head, attempting to calm her. “We did everything we could to ensure that you were not embarrassed. It was clear that you were hurting, and attempting to find a way forward.” Damon pressed his lips to her forehead. Determined to solidify his gains. “But not, I think, as Lady Throughgood.”

“No.” The word was hollow, reminding him of a child lost in the woods.

He would like to drop to one knee and propose, but that would give her an opportunity not only to take his proposal the wrong way, but stalk off, wrapped in her dignity. “Perhaps there is another gentleman who would like to marry you.”

She shook her head slowly. “No.”

Damon swallowed his frustration. “Have you never even considered being the Marchioness of Hawksworth, and future Duchess of Somerset?”

Her head jerked up, her eyes as wide and wary as a startled deer. “Marry you?”

“Why not?” He captured her lips, and this time she opened her mouth, allowing him to plunder. A few moments later, he grinned. “We at least have passion. I’ll wait for you to fall in love with me.”

“Fall in love?” Her jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered. “Are you telling me that you love me?”

“Almost from the first moment I saw you last spring, but it was clear that you were already committed. I arrived in Town this past autumn to find you taken once again.”

“You . . .”

“Still, there is something you must know. I have sworn not to marry unless the lady loves me in return.”

Once more she attempted to break loose, but apparently settled for glaring at him. “You
cannot
be serious.”

“Why?” Raising one brow, he challenged her. “Because I am a man?”

Meg winced. “I just never thought it was that important to gentlemen.”

“I think your brother might disagree. As for me, I need the type of loyalty that only love will bring. If you agree to marry me, we would have to remain betrothed until you return my affections.”

“I cannot. I mean, what if I never do?”

Damon kissed Meg again, slowly, until she moaned. Even through his clothing he could feel her soft breasts touching, pressing into him. Feel when her nipples became tight buds. This time when he broke the kiss her eyes were glazed and her lips parted. “We will.”

A few moments later she took a breath. “I will not wed a man with secrets.”

“Secrets?” He barked a laugh. “The only secret I have is that my father dislikes me as much as he did my mother.”

“Impossible.” She shook her head, rejecting his truth. “Look at you. For one thing, you dress like a Dandy, but you do not act like one.”

Damon wanted to rake his fingers through his hair, but he didn’t dare let go of her. “Merely the product of being bored. I came back from the war and had nothing to do except be on the Town. I would much rather be learning the business of being a duke, but my father is not at all interested in allowing me to do so. That was when I hit upon the idea of being an Original. Dressing like a Dandy, to an extent, but pursuing sports as well. I must admit the temptation to be able to make a lot of idiotic men follow my whims was one I could not resist.” Meg still looked unconvinced. “I can promise you that I am neither a sadist nor rolled up. Even without the allowance I receive from my father, I am wealthy.”

“Tarlington?”

“Indeed. I hear there is an extremely rich American heiress in Paris who is looking for a title.”

Her shoulders straightened, and beneath his fingers her spine stiffened. That was his brave lady love. “I wish him good luck in his endeavors.”

“You are magnanimous.”

“I am sick of being tricked.” A sob broke through. “I saw him with another woman.”

That he had not known or suspected. With his thumb, Damon wiped away the one tear that had leaked from her eye. What he did understand was that she needed to speak about it, and that she had probably not been able to tell anyone. “How did that come about?”

Meg rested her head against his shoulder, slumping into him. “I received a note, as I had with Swindon.”

Surely she . . . “Tell me about Swindon first.”

“I had a missive. It told me that he—that he was cruel to women, beyond the type of beatings one sometimes sees. I had never heard of such a thing and did not believe it.” She took a breath, and he was afraid of what he would hear next. “Then another letter came telling me to go to a certain address. It gave the time.” She stared into his eyes. “A woman was waiting there. She—she showed me the scars he had made when he whipped her. There was also a letter from him asking her to forgive him for leaving marks. The next day I sent him a missive telling him I no longer wished to see him.”

Damon held her closer. Willing all the hurt she had felt out of her. “What happened with Tarlington?”

“The same thing. This time the letter included an address and time. I saw him with a woman and two children. He was so in love with them.” When she ended, her voice was strained. “I—I cannot go through that again.”

He wanted to roar at the injuries she had received at the hands of the scoundrels and kill them. He wanted to hold her until she healed. Yet most of all, he wanted to show her that she did not need to fear love any longer. “You have good reason to be wary, but I can promise you, I will never give you any cause to doubt me.”

Tears coursed down her cheeks. “I don’t know if I can ever trust a man again.”

He decided to press his suit. Perhaps his surprise attack would work better than attempting to talk her around. After all, the passion they shared was a start. “Accept my offer of marriage. We will work on the rest.”

She was shaking her head again, but at least she had stopped weeping. “That is not fair to you. You cannot jilt me, and what if I can never bring myself to love you?”

At this moment, he could have told her it did not matter, but at the end of the day, it would—to them both. She had to know she could love and be loved in return. “Give us until just before Twelfth Night. If your feelings have not changed by then, you may jilt me.” She opened her lovely lips, but he placed one finger on them, stilling her. “However, if you feel anything for me, we will continue the betrothal until you are certain.”

“I think you are mad.”

Despite her words, he thought she was coming around. “What do you have to lose? One way or another, it will be settled long before the next Season begins.”

She drew her brows together, studying him. Trying to find an ulterior motive for his proposal. Then again, if he was right and their passion meant something, what did she have to lose? The sound of steps coming toward her and Hawksworth made any further conversation difficult. “Very well. We shall try it your way.”

His arm snaked around her waist, just as the other couple joined them. “Miss Hiller, Throughgood. I wish you a Happy Christmas.”

Amanda glanced from Meg to Hawksworth, her smile growing wider by the moment. “Happy Christmas to you as well.” Amanda’s arm was tucked securely in Throughgood’s. “May we assume that you being out here means . . . Oh dear.” The joyful look on her face faded. “Have I got ahead of myself? Meg, you are my dearest friend, and I only want your happiness.”

“True enough,” Throughgood said. “She even thought about giving me up, but I wouldn’t let her.”

Meg forced a smile and covered the few feet to hug her friend. “Amanda, you should have told me not to even think about Lord Throughgood. If only I had known, I would never have—”

“Thought to save her from me.” Hawksworth cut in, saving Meg from embarrassing herself. “And giving me an opportunity to discover that my estimation of Meg was correct.” He pulled her back into the warmth of his arm. “You may wish us happy. Obviously, I must speak with her father before an announcement is made.”

She sucked in a breath. That was well done of him. “Indeed. If it is at all possible, we will leave after Boxing Day. I would like to be home for the rest of the holiday.”

“I agree.” He held her even tighter against his side. “As pleasant as this party has been, nothing more can be accomplished until we can speak with her parents.”

“I understand.” Amanda glanced at Lord Throughgood. “We have been spending time with Chuffy’s parents.”

“M’mother and father have taken a liking to Amanda and her parents.” He focused his gaze on Meg. “Please call me Chuffy. All my friends but Hawksworth here do. Maybe next year we can attend the fair together. It was deuced uncomfortable having to play least in sight with you and Hawksworth.” So that was what all the strange turning down other rows at the fair had been about. “We wanted to give him time to bring you up to scratch before we made the announcement. Amanda wouldn’t even allow me to propose properly until to-day. We mean to marry as soon as I can procure a special license.”

All three of them were silent, waiting for her to say something. “Thank you. Your kindness means a great deal to me.” Even if Hawksworth never became her husband, she now knew how good a man he was, and a true friend. “I think we should go back in before we are missed.”

“Throughgood, Miss Hiller,” Hawksworth said. “We shall follow you.”

They were several feet away when he drew her into another kiss. “I have already made use of your name. Please call me Damon. No one else does, and it would mean a great deal to me.”

Sensing a vulnerability she had not expected, Meg clung to him for a few moments longer. There was so much about this man she wished to know, must know now that she needed to see if she could fall in love with him. “I am pleased that you want me to use your given name.”

“You honor me.” He glanced at the drawing room doors. “Let us see how well our friends can hide our absence.”

They need not have worried. When Meg and Damon entered the room, it was filled with loud laughter as most of the guests were deeply involved in a game of Charades. She shuddered, and he squeezed her hand. One thing was certain; if they did wed, they would not require anyone to join riddle games.

He led her straight to Lady Bellamny, who was talking to the Hillers and Grantvilles.

“We shall make the announcement before the service,” Lady Grantville was saying when they strolled up.

“Perfect,” Lady Bellamny agreed. “And what about the two of you?”

She had not turned her head toward Meg and Damon, but they both knew to whom she was speaking.

Damon grinned and kissed her on the cheek. “If you have no objection, we are off as soon as possible to speak with Miss Featherton’s parents.”

“Much good it would do if I did object,” Lady Bellamny said in a wry tone. “Who will be your chaperone?”

“I thought that my maid might be enough.” Meg hoped against hope that either Mrs. Hiller or Lady Bellamny would agree.

“Not when your betrothal has not been announced. However, I have had a letter from your grandmother Featherton. She is passing through this area and wished to stop to visit. There is no reason why you cannot ask her if she is willing to play gooseberry.”

“Grandmamma? I thought she was in Bath or somewhere.”

“I have known her since she was a girl, and there is no counting on her being where she says she will be. However, she always is where she is needed.” Lady Bellamny bussed Meg’s cheek. “Send a message to your dresser to start packing. Your grandmother is traveling with the Dowager Duchess of Bridgewater.”

Meg wanted to roll her eyes. “When is she not? My sister-in-law, Mary, says they are as thick as thieves.”

“There you are. Old ladies need to have some fun, or where would we be?”

On the heels of that cryptic remark, Lady Grantville glanced at the clock. “I think it time for the announcement, and the champagne has arrived.”

Indeed, it was already a quarter after eleven. This would give them just enough time to congratulate Amanda and Chuffy before donning their warm clothing for the trip to the town for services.

“We have an announcement to make.” Lord Grantville motioned to Amanda and Chuffy. “Miss Hiller has graciously agreed to marry my son, Throughgood. Please join me in wishing them happy.”

The newly betrothed couple was wreathed in smiles as they were congratulated and champagne was passed around.

Meg was sorry she would miss Amanda’s wedding, but Damon was right. She must discover if their friendship could blossom into something more. After the past few days, she was convinced that she would be more comfortable exploring her feelings at home.

A footman handed her a glass of champagne, and she took the time to study Amanda and Chuffy. He gazed at her as if she was the most important thing in the world, and she gave him the same look.

“It is almost as if they were made for one another.” Damon’s arm brushed Meg’s shoulder.

“It is.” They already appeared so comfortable together.

“We should congratulate them again.” He placed his palm on the small of her back and together they wished Amanda and Chuffy happy.

Soon she was garbed in warm boots, gloves, a cloak with a large matching muff, and a bonnet. Damon remained beside her as they walked down the drive toward town. “What shall we tell my grandmother?”

“Why not the truth? There is nothing wrong in what we are doing. You have been deeply hurt, and I love you enough to wait.”

“You make me sound tragic.” And she was not sure she liked thinking of herself in that way.

“On the contrary.”

She could feel him glance down at her.

“I think you are brave to risk your heart again.”