Forever Mine (The Forever Series #2) Page 12

  He was blond and charismatic, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. He appeared to be a fellow who smiled most of the time.

  “How do you like being a companion?” he inquired. “Isn’t it dreadful?”

  “It can be—if the girl one is companioning is horrid.”

  He took a furtive glance toward the ballroom. “I won’t put you on the spot and ask how you view the current girl.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “How long have you been toiling away at it?”

  “Too long,” she muttered, and he grinned in a charming way.

  “Are you allowed to dance? Or is it against the rules?”

  “I have Gertrude Bolton’s specific permission to dance as much as I want.”

  “Perfect. Shall we walk out for the second set?”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  To her dismay, Mr. Stanton entered the room. His fierce glower honed in on her immediately, and his caustic assessment roamed over Mr. Fenwick who was sitting very close. He was furiously jealous, and she sighed with exasperation. The oaf was deranged. As each day passed, she was more convinced of it.

  There must have been a wicked facet to her personality that she hadn’t previously noted because suddenly she thought it would be a fine idea to aggravate him. So far in their debacle, she had suffered all the pain and humiliation. She’d be delighted to give him a taste of her misery.

  “Could I ask you a favor, Mr. Fenwick?”

  “Anything, Miss Barrington. If it is within my power to bestow, you may have it.”

  “Don’t think I’m overly forward.”

  “In my estimation, a female can never be too forward.”

  “Wonderful. Would you flirt with me all evening long?”

  “I’d be glad to. I’m the biggest flirt ever. It would be no chore at all.”

  Mr. Grey came back with her punch, and Mr. Fenwick said, “Wesley, tell Miss Barrington the truth about me. Am I a flirt?”

  “He’s horrendous, Miss Barrington, and you should watch yourself around him. He will flatter and woo and seduce you, but he won’t mean a single word.”

  The orchestra sounded the beginning chords. Mr. Fenwick stood and tugged her up too.

  “They’re playing our tune,” he said to Mr. Grey. “Find a partner and join us.”

  They started off, and he stayed very near, a hand on her waist, his leg brushing her skirt with each step. Mr. Stanton was over by the buffet, his rage pelting her.

  She tipped her head toward Mr. Fenwick. “Would you dance with me all night?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  “And would you laugh and chat constantly?”

  “It’s my nature to laugh and chat. I can’t help myself so yes, absolutely.”

  “I’ve had a terrible week, and I need to lift my mood.”

  “Miss Barrington, by the time I am finished with you you’ll feel grand as the Queen.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Mr. Fenwick swept her out on the floor, and he quickly proved that Mr. Stanton wasn’t the only excellent dancer in residence.

  * * * *

  Christopher studied the deserted hall, then slipped into Catherine’s bedchamber. He was becoming an expert at bribery, having slipped a coin to a footman in order to learn where her room was located.

  With how stingy the Boltons were, he’d have expected her to be dumped in the attic with the other servants, but he was thrilled to discover her lodged all alone and far from the rest of the household.

  The whole evening, he’d tried to speak to her, but she’d been too busy flaunting herself with her annoying beau. Who was he?

  Apparently, he’d arrived with Wesley Grey, but his name and status were a mystery, and the ladies ogling him had declared him the darling of the party. Christopher was anxious to unravel the oaf’s relationship to Catherine. He’d paid her such extreme attention that people were speculating she was secretly engaged.

  The possibility had left him in an appalling state, and his elevated fury had him worried he was much fonder of her than he’d realized. Might he be…in love?

  He hadn’t thought he could ever fall in love. He’d always deemed it a ludicrous emotion, and he was too pragmatic and too manly to suffer from such a maudlin condition. Yet how else was he to explain his strange reaction? It made no sense.

  The sitting room was dark, no fire or lamp burning, but moonlight shone in the window. He spun the key to lock himself in, and he paused to ascertain where she might be. He walked over to the bedchamber and peeked in, but she wasn’t there. He could hear her in the dressing room beyond, humming softly to herself.

  He blustered over, and she was in front of a mirror and brushing her hair. She was ready for bed, attired in nightgown and robe, her feet bare. A candle on the dresser created an intimate ambiance so it seemed as if any marvelous event could transpire.

  “Hello, Catherine,” he murmured.

  At the sound of his voice, she was so startled she dropped the brush, and it clattered to the floor. She whirled on him, her expression thunderous.

  “What gall has possessed you, Mr. Stanton?” she demanded. “You can’t be in here.”

  “I had to talk to you.”

  She pointed to the door. “Turn around and get out right now.”

  “No. You ignored me all night.”

  “You can’t be in here!” she seethed more vehemently.

  “Don’t fret about it. No one saw me.”

  “You can’t be sure of that. If I’m caught with you, I’ll be ruined, then promptly terminated from my job.”

  “No one saw me!” he repeated. “We’re perfectly safe.”

  “It’s occurred to me that you might be a tad deranged, and my assessment appears to be correct. You’re behaving like a lunatic.” She pointed to the door again. “Go! Now!”

  He never listened to women, especially when they were being absurd. Instead of departing as she’d commanded, he sauntered over to her. From how she stiffened and scrutinized her surroundings, it was clear she was trying to figure out an escape, but the room was small, and he had her trapped in it.

  He stepped toward her, and she stepped back, but there was nowhere for her to run. She bumped into the wall, and he swooped in and clapped his palms on the plaster on either side of her.

  It dawned on him that he’d probably had too much whiskey and was making a fool of himself, but he didn’t care. He was determined to hash out their differences, and he wouldn’t leave until he’d received some satisfactory replies.

  “You wouldn’t dance with me,” he petulantly complained.

  “Of course I wouldn’t.”

  “Who was your…friend?”

  “My friend?” She scowled. “Who do you mean?”

  “You danced every dance with him.”

  “You poor, poor baby. Are you jealous?”

  He scoffed. “No, but you should ponder the consequences of your actions. The whole neighborhood is gossiping about you.”

  “So? In three more days, I’ll never see any of these people again.”

  “Everyone is wondering if you’re secretly engaged.”

  “If they’re so concerned about me, it’s obvious they have too much time on their hands.”

  “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Are you secretly engaged?”

  She actually laughed. Right in his face!

  “You are jealous!” she crowed. “You are!”

  He leaned down and rested his forehead at her nape, inhaling the alluring scent of her skin and hair. Instantly, the beast rampaging inside was soothed.

  “I couldn’t bear to watch you consorting with another man,” he told her. “It’s driven me wild with rage.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Tell me he’s nothing to you.”

  “He’s nothing to me. I met him at the buffet t
able.”

  “Swear.”

  “I swear. If I thought it was any of your business, I’d confess that I asked him to flirt with me merely to aggravate you.”

  “It worked.”

  “Honestly, you are mad.”

  “You belong with me, Catherine. How can I make you understand that fact?”

  “You can’t, and you’ve had too much to drink.”

  “No, if I’d had too much, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “You have to leave. This isn’t solving our dilemma.”

  He dropped to his knees, and he clasped her hand in his. He kissed the center of it, then he gazed up at her, his eyes beseeching.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “Please? I never intended to hurt you.”

  “Oh, Christopher, get up. This is so unnecessary.”

  “I can’t have you so angry. Forgive me.”

  “Yes, yes, I forgive you, and let’s not fight. I hate quarreling. Now get up.”

  She tugged him to his feet, and he towered over her, liking how he felt big and strong in her presence. She needed him by her side. How could he convince her to admit it?

  He dipped in and kissed her, and for a brief second she resisted his advance. Then—with a groan that sounded like dismay—she pulled him close. The front of her body was pressed to his all the way down, and the reaction she stirred was so extreme he was amazed his legs didn’t give out.

  He kept on forever, and he couldn’t imagine ever stopping. Would they ignite the entire world with their passion? How could she expect they would part? It was impossible to envision it.

  He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and stretched out on top of her. Only then did she come to her senses. She tried to scoot away, but he wouldn’t release her.

  “I can’t do this with you,” she said.

  “I just want to hold you, Catherine.”

  “No. You’ll coax me into conduct I should never attempt.”

  “I won’t. I swear.” He smiled at her, thinking she was so beautiful, and he was so lucky to have stumbled on her. “Are you ever lonely, Catherine?”

  “Always. I’m always lonely.”

  “So am I. Relax with me for a bit.”

  “All right, fine,” she huffed, “but if you make a single move I don’t like, I will kick you out and lock the door behind you.”

  “You have to be mine, Catherine. Why don’t you realize it?”

  “I can never be yours, Christopher.”

  She might have gone off on a scolding tirade about how unprincipled he was, how immoral and disloyal he was, but he couldn’t abide her criticism. He recognized all of his flaws, and he wished he was a better man, but she simply exacerbated all of his indecent inclinations.

  He was so overwhelmed by her, conflicted as to how they should proceed into the future. He had settled on the best idea—that being his desire to have her as his mistress—but he couldn’t deduce how he’d ever persuade her to agree.

  By his sneaking into her bedchamber, he’d risked all: his betrothal, his marriage, his pending fortune, his fiscal rescue of his estate and his troubled brother. Yet he was so determined to have her that he would pursue any reckless course.

  He began kissing her again, his large body pinning her down. His busy hands learned her anatomy, roaming over her arms and thighs, her tummy and back. He sifted his fingers through her luscious blond hair and massaged them in circles over her lovely breasts.

  She didn’t protest his illicit deeds, and she joined in, stroking her own hands across his torso, each caress like a bolt of lightning that sent sparks of electricity directly to his loins.

  He was so aroused that he was swiftly losing control so he slowed and drew away. He slid off her and rolled onto his side. She rolled too so they were nose to nose. They were silent, both of them stunned by how intimate the interval had become.

  “What now, Christopher?” she inquired. “I’ve allowed you into my room and my bed. I’ve forgiven you for your horrid treatment. What is it you hope will occur?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sorry I tormented you downstairs.”

  He snorted. “I’m sorry too.”

  “I was desperate to make you feel as badly as I was feeling, but I’m never deliberately cruel, and I refuse to bicker.”

  “As do I.”

  “We can’t be together like this ever again,” she said.

  “We could be.”

  “No—not unless you’re willing to cry off from your engagement, and you never will.”

  “There’s a way we could manage it.” It was too soon to suggest it, but he decided to take the chance. What if she surprised him?

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I want you to carefully consider my proposition. Promise you won’t fly off the handle.”

  “That depends on what it is.”

  “Don’t rage and vent at me.”

  She chuckled. “I promise not to rage and vent so what is it?”

  “Would you be my mistress?”

  She scoffed with derision. “No, never.”

  “I don’t mean it as an insult,” he hurriedly insisted. “It’s the perfect solution to our problem.”

  “What problem is that? I have no problem with you. I’d like to wed you, but you’re bound to another so you’re not available.”

  “We share such a potent connection, Catherine. We shouldn’t walk away from it, and your life is so awful. Let me make it better.”

  “And you’d make it better for me…how? Would you buy me a little house and pop in whenever you could sneak away from your bride?”

  His cheeks flushed with chagrin because that would be the precise situation, but he felt compelled to say, “It wouldn’t be like that. I simply can’t stand the notion that we have to part.”

  “I would only attach myself if there was a ring on my finger and vows spoken in front of a vicar. There’s no other path for me.”

  “I think you used to occupy a very high place in the world.” She shrugged, but didn’t reply, and he continued. “Was it a scandal? Was your father ruined? Did he pass away bankrupt? What happened to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You’re too remarkable to be working for the likes of Priscilla.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, you do!” he heatedly said. “You can agree to my proposal, and you won’t have to toil away ever again.”

  “You’d support me with what? With Priscilla’s money?”

  “Well…ah…”

  She shook her head. “You act as if you’re a cad and a bounder, but could you really carry on like that? I certainly couldn’t. It would be such a betrayal of your wife, and we’d both feel so guilty. If we commenced down such an immoral road, we’d eventually grow to detest each other.”

  “We wouldn’t.”

  “We would. Or at least I would.”

  “What is your option? When we return to London, will you leave Priscilla’s employ and vanish?”

  She rested a palm on his cheek. “It’s what has to transpire, Christopher.”

  “You won’t even reflect on how grand it could be.”

  “You’re wrong. I’ve pondered it, and I can’t behave as you’re requesting. I’ve always believed my parents are watching over me from Heaven. If they are, they would be so ashamed if I participated in such a wicked arrangement.”

  He could hardly argue with deceased, adored parents gazing down from Heaven. He’d have to devise a new route of attack to persuade her, but before he could formulate it someone knocked on the door. They froze, their brows raising in shock as the knock sounded again.

  “Miss Barrington?” a woman called.

  “Yes?” Catherine answered. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Miss Bolton’s maid, Bertha. I’m sorry to arrive so late, but Miss Priscilla sent me with a message for the morni
ng.”

  Catherine was wide-eyed with alarm, and she slid off the bed and waved at him to hide in the shadows.

  “Just a minute,” she called back. “I’m coming.”

  She waited until he had tiptoed into the dressing room, then she went over and opened the door. He listened to their conversation, not knowing what he would do if Bertha barged in with towels or hot water. There was no rear exit.

  “What is the message?” Catherine asked.

  “You are to attend church with Mr. Bolton and Miss Bolton.”

  “Of course I will. I was planning on it.”

  “Miss Priscilla will sleep in so she won’t be joining you.”

  “Thank you for walking such a distance just to inform me.”

  “She’ll need you directly after the service. You’re to accompany her on her tour of Mr. Stanton’s home.”

  “Oh, I’d forgotten.”

  “I brought clean towels,” Bertha said. “Would you like me to put them away for you?”

  “No, no, that’s fine,” Catherine firmly stated. “I can do it myself.”

  The door closed, and Catherine locked it again.

  She hesitated for a minute or two, probably to be sure Bertha had left. Then she entered, holding a stack of towels, and she placed them on a shelf by the mirror.

  “What was that about?” he whispered.

  “I have no idea, but you have to leave. Now.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “Let’s agree to never fight in the future.”

  “We won’t.”

  “And you have to convince Priscilla that you don’t want me in your house. Please? The prospect is too distressing.”

  “I won’t talk to her before then. I’ll have no chance to dissuade her.”

  She grumbled with frustration. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. “It will be all right, Catherine.”

  “How will it?”

  “I’ll be honored to have you visit.”

  “It will destroy me.”

  “No, it won’t. You’re stronger than that.”

  “Go!” she murmured.

  “Lock up behind me. If you’re not careful, there’s no telling who might wander in.”

  “There’s no one worse than you.”