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Worry marred her brow and she seemed relieved as he gestured her through to the blue salon, the scent of lemon and flowers following her in. Her dull brown hair this evening was pulled back and fastened with a glittery pin. It was the first piece of jewellery he had ever seen her wear.
‘Carole, one of the little girls at Gaskell Street, made the fastener for me and presented it to me this evening,’ she explained when she realised what had caught his attention. ‘A beaker was broken at the school last week and she fashioned the shards of china into a clip.’ Her smile broadened and it had the effect of making her eyes look bigger in her face than they usually were. And much more gold. Perfectly arched dark eyebrows sat above them.
‘I have just come from the school concert, my lord.’ Even as she said it she removed the clip from her hair and deposited it in a large cloth bag she carried.
‘You work there?’
‘No, I am a patron, my lord, a small recompense for all that they did for me as a child. We are building a new dormitory that will be ready in a matter of only a few weeks and there is much yet to finish and so—’ She stopped abruptly and blushed. ‘But you cannot possibly be interested in any of this. Papa said I should only speak of happy things, light topics and suchlike. Orphans and all of their accompanying poverty, I suppose, do not come into that category.’
He had to smile. ‘I hope I am not quite so shallow, Miss Cameron. The work sounds useful and interesting.’
‘Then you would not stop me being involved? You would allow me the independence that I need after this marriage?’
When he nodded Daniel had the sudden impression that he might have been agreeing to far more than he knew he was, but she soon went on to another topic altogether.
‘Papa’s insistence on a harmonious union should not be too onerous either, my lord. Nowhere in the marriage document is there any mention of how many days a year we would need to reside together. It need not be a trap.’
‘Are you always this forthright, Miss Cameron?’
‘Yes.’ No qualification. She looked at him as if he had just given her the biggest compliment in the world.
‘Clinical.’
‘Pragmatic,’ she returned and blushed to almost the same shade as a scarlet rug thrown across a nearby sofa.
Such vulnerability lurking amongst brave endeavour was strangely endearing and although he meant not to Daniel caught at her hand. He wanted to protect her from a world that would not quite know what to make of her; his world, where the cut of a cloth was as important as the name of the family and the consideration of others less fortunate in means was best left to the worry of others or to nobody at all.
As he had already noted, she smelt of lemon and flowers, none of the heady heavy aromas the ladies in court seemed to be drawn towards and desire ignited within him, as unexpected as it was unwanted. Abruptly he let her go.
‘You must know that it is not done for a lady to visit a gentleman alone, Miss Cameron, under any circumstances.’
‘Oh, I am not a lady, my lord.’
‘You soon will be.’
Again she shook her head. ‘I do not wish to change, Lord Montcliffe. There is just simply too much for me to do. This is why I have come to make certain that you know...’ She stopped, and he got the impression she was trying to work out exactly how she might give him her truths.
‘Know what?’
‘I will marry you, my lord, and my father will in turn nullify the debts of your family. But in exchange I wish for two things.’
She waited as he nodded.
‘I want you to make certain no one will ever bother my father again and I want you to promise that when Papa leaves this world...’ her voice caught ‘...you will let me go.’
‘Let you go?’
‘I will not contest the monies at all, though I will expect a substantial settlement and Dunstan House, of course, and its accompanying lands.’
‘My God. You are serious?’
She nodded her head. ‘I am a business woman, my lord, and astute enough to know that this marriage is only one of convenience. You would never have chosen me without the enticement of great wealth and I accept that, but I do want civility and fairness.’
Each word she said was more astonishing than the last. He had had all manner of women throwing themselves at him for years and here was one telling him to his face that a marriage between them was purely a matter of business, and finite at that.
‘What of your needs in this union, Miss Cameron?’
‘I don’t have any as such, Lord Montcliffe. I simply want my father to be content in the last months of his life. That is all.’
Daniel was not one to turn away from such a gauntlet.
‘And emotion? Where does that fit into this conundrum?’
She shook her head vigorously, the brown tresses marked with no sheen from the lamplight. She had stepped back too, her strange large bag positioned between them like a barrier.
‘I do realise that as a titled gentleman you would require the production of heirs and as such this agreement will give you the time to find a woman you would want as the chosen mother of your children. You are not so old, after all, and gentlemen of the ton have a marked propensity to choose much younger wives from what I have observed.’
Without meaning to he smiled, such direct honesty so very unfamiliar.
His glance went to her lips, full and defined, and he felt a surge of desire. God, it had been years since his libido had been so fickle and months since he had last bedded a woman.
The world seemed to stand still between them, any logic sucked into pure and utter confusion. Any other female of his acquaintance would have simpered and flushed in such a situation, but she stood there watching him, her glance strong and unwavering.
‘I also hope you are of the same opinion concerning this marriage as I am and share the belief that it would require no...no...’ She stopped, searching around for what to say and failing.
‘Intimacy?’ He gave the word in humour, but she paled visibly, reminding him in that moment of a skittish colt, wanting to be reassured on the one hand and ready to bolt on the other.
‘I realise, my lord, that there must be a great many young women in the ton who would jump at the chance of being an earl’s wife in general and your wife in particular. Even with the imminent financial collapse of the Montcliffe estate I feel certain you would still be a good catch. With the Cameron fortune behind you there would be a far better chance of acquiring exactly the sort of woman you would wish for. I could simply disappear and never be seen again, a former spouse who should not be a problem if I was to be thought of as dead. I would be quite happy with such an outcome if Papa was no longer with me. Indeed, I could go to the Continent and settle under a different name.’
‘You are seriously expounding bigamy?’
He began to laugh then, because what she said was becoming more and more outlandish and because he could barely believe that she was saying it.
‘Perhaps I am, my lord, though in the very best sense of the word, of course, and mutually agreed. I would also like to add that I wouldn’t have acquiesced to a union between us if I had not liked your character. I realised, quite early on, that it was most unlikely you would have ever been attracted to me in the slightest, had we met under other circumstances, and there was a good deal of safety in that.’
A challenge thrown down between them, Daniel thought to himself, and given with such an engaging and disarming frankness.
‘Such safety, Miss Cameron, is not the best building block for any marriage and I shall show you exactly why.’ Without asking for permission, he dispensed with the bag and brought her into his arms.
* * *
She should have been horrified. She should have fought off his grip and demanded release as his hands brought her in and his lips came down on hers. But her head would not obey her heart as warmth seared into disbelief and the world narrowed to a feeling that began in a place low in her stomach, before exploding everywhere.
His kiss was not gentle or tentative or kind. It was raw and masculine with an edge of anger demanding response. It was deep and unexpected, his tongue finding hers as the angle of the kiss changed, slanting on to another plane, splayed palms guiding her in, the sound of breath, the dissolution of the world around them, the focus of heat and want and need.
Another language that she had had no notion of. The clock in the corner with its heavy beat seemed to stop as she tasted him in return, his strength, his toughness, the sheer and potent force of a man who understood the power he wielded. There was no question of resisting. When her nails traced a runnel in his skin to bring him closer, his lips slid down the sensitive line of her neck. They would mark each other with this moment, she thought, as she tipped her head, the column of her throat exposed to the hard pull of his mouth.
But as his hand wandered to trace the line of her bottom under her billowing skirt she jerked back, the hue on her cheeks rising. This was unlike anything she had imagined. The danger of her response made her feel dizzy.
She needed to be gone, away from this room, away from the things that she knew must be reflected in her eyes and on her face and in the hard twin buds of desire that pushed against the material in her bodice.
She was pleased both for the coat and for the fact that he had turned to face the window so that she did not need to see his expression. Not yet. With shaking hands she opened the door.
‘I am glad we had this...t-talk, my lord, but now I must go.’
Then she was outside, her footman following closely behind down the steps of the Montcliffe town house. As they gained the road the servant gestured to the Cameron conveyance a good hundred yards away to collect them. She had asked the driver to park there, away from the prying eyes of others.
She prayed Daniel Wylde would not follow to demand an answer to all that had transpired between them. Her father was dying and she would do anything at all in her power to make him happy, even marry a man who, she knew in that very second, could only break her heart. Wiping away a tear, she swallowed and took a deep breath, the strength she had always kept a hold on returning.
At least he understood now the parameters of this relationship. Or did he?
* * *
‘Hell.’ Daniel adjusted the fit of his trousers over a growing hardness. She had dumbfounded him with her reaction to his kiss, no tepid chaste reply, but a full-blown taking of everything he had offered, the promise of lust in the way her teeth had come down on his bottom lip, egging on all that he had held restrained.
Like a siren. Like a courtesan. Like a woman of far more experience than she was admitting to.
His plain little intended mouse-to-be was baring her claws and turning into a lioness and all before they had even got up the matrimonial aisle. Nothing made sense any more because the only thing he was thinking about was following her and demanding the completion of an intimacy that had left him reeling.
He was glad that her scent lingered in the room, glad to keep the promise of Amethyst Cameron for a little while longer. The cloth bag she had brought in was still beside the sofa, abandoned in her moment of panic, some item of clothing spilling out on to his thick burgundy Aubusson carpet.
As he hauled the thing upwards, one handle broke and the contents tumbled out. An apron and a tattered Bible were the first things that had fallen at his feet, Amethyst’s name printed in the frontispiece of the book and underlined in different colours. He smiled, imagining her doing such a thing. Beneath that was a ragdoll with a torn dress and another toy whose identity he could not determine—a cat perhaps, its paws missing. Incredibly, a diamond ring also sat there amongst the folds of cloth, the carat weight sizeable, and the cut, colour and clarity unmatched. Valuable and forgotten, strands of cotton and dust caught in the clasps of gold.
Any other woman of his acquaintance would have worn the thing on her finger, showing it off, enjoying the admiration of others, but not Amethyst Cameron. No, to her the dismembered cat probably had more of a value and the Bible a better use.
Stuffing the lot back in the bag, he called to his footman.
‘Have this delivered to the Camerons’ home in Grosvenor Square immediately.’ Daniel did not wish to take the thing himself, an unaccustomed fragility setting his countenance on edge after the last few minutes with his bride-to-be.
He tried not to notice the curiosity in his man’s eyes as he handed the bag over.
* * *
Her father was still up when she got home and Amethyst’s heart sank. Of all the nights he had delayed retiring to his bedchamber, why did it have to be this one?
‘Papa.’ She tried to keep her voice steady, but knew that she had not succeeded as he stood.
‘What has happened? You look...different.’
She almost smiled at that. Different. Such a word came nowhere near the heart of all that she felt.
‘I went to see Lord Montcliffe.’
‘And?’
‘I am not certain if he was the right choice after all. I think he might want a lot from me, more than I should be willing to give.’
Her father laughed. ‘Your mother said that of me.’
‘He kissed me.’
The stillness in his eyes was foreign. ‘Did you like it?’
Her heart thudded as she nodded.
‘Then he was the right choice, Amy, for although society is disparaging in allowing any intimate contact between intending couples I think that it should be mandatory. As long as it is a consenting thing. He did not force you?’
‘No.’
‘If your mother was here, she would tell you of the power of feelings between a man and a woman and she would say it better than I. Whitely knew nothing about you, my dear. He did not appreciate the layers in a woman or the complexities.’
Anger rose where only guilt had lingered. Until this moment Amethyst had always thought their broken marriage was her fault, but after Daniel Wylde’s kiss she wondered. Gerald had kissed her a few times in the very early days of their courtship, but his pecks were tepid reflections of all she had felt in the heated atmosphere of Lord Montcliffe’s library. The breath constricted in her throat and she swallowed back worry. If she could react this way to one of the Earl’s kisses, what might happen if things went further? The teachers at Gaskell Street had always drilled her upon the proper and correct reactions a lady might show to the world and she was certain that her response tonight would have been well outside any appropriate boundary.
Decorum and seemliness were the building stones of the aristocracy. The gentler sex was supposed to be exactly that, after all—women devoid of all the more natural vices men were renowned for. She wished her mother was here to give some advice and direction. Her father, however, seemed, more than ready to supply some.
‘Whitely was a conniving liar, that was the problem. He was no more than an acquaintance when you married him and nothing more when he died. I tried to warn you, but you would not listen. If your mother had still been alive, I am certain things would have been different, but it is hard to advise anyone against something they have their very heart set upon.’
His words dug into Amethyst’s centre. Her fault. Her mistake. Her deficiency to tumble into a relationship that had been patently wrong from the very start.
With Gerald there had been no true underpinning attraction. With Daniel it was the opposite. She did not know him at all and yet... She shook away the justification. Lust was shaky ground to build a relationship upon and she could not afford another disaster.
Her father’s coughing started in a little way at first, a clearing of a throat, a slight impediment. But then his eyes rolled back and he simply dropped, folding in on himself, a slight man with his jacket askew and his spectacles crushed underfoot.
She shouted out as the doorbell rang and the Cameron butler and a stranger rushed into the room, the bag she had left at the Montcliffe town house abandoned at their feet as they both lifted her father to the chaise longue. Wilson untied his cravat and loosened his collar, arranging Robert on his side so that his breathing was eased.
Amethyst could not move. She was frozen in fear as the numbness spreading across her chest emptied her of rational thought. Was it his heart? Was this the final moment of which the specialist had spoken?
‘Get a doctor.’ Their butler seemed to have taken charge and the man she did not know nodded and left the room. A Montcliffe servant, she supposed, returning her bag. Nothing made sense any more. The housekeeper scurried in with a hot towel and a bowl, the maid kneeling with new wood to stoke up the heat of the fire, Wilson trying to awaken her father from the stupor he had fallen into. The moments turned into a good half an hour.
* * *
And then Lord Montcliffe was there, his voice calm with authority as he took in the situation, a doctor at his side.
Amethyst’s jaw ached from where she held it tightly together, but when he took her arm and led her across to her father, she went.
‘Hold his hand and sit beside him. Talk to him so that he knows you are there.’
When Robert’s wilted fingers came into her grasp she held on. Cold. Familiar. The scar upon his little finger where he had fallen through glass, a nail pulled out by heavy timber. A working man’s hand and the hand of a father who had loved her well. She brought the back of it to her lips, paper-thin skin marred by brown spots, age drawn into years of outside work. Kissing him, she willed him back, willed him to open his eyes and see her. The doctor frowned as he felt for a pulse.
‘Is there other family we can call?’
She shook her head.
Just her and just Papa. The horror of loss ran through her like sharpened swords and her teeth had begun to chatter, shock searing into trauma. For a moment the next breath just would not come.
* * *
Daniel kneeled down before her, hoping the panic he could see in her eyes might allow her more of an ease of breath. ‘Anything that can be done for your father will be, Miss Cameron. MacKenzie, my physician, is the best doctor there is in London. Do you understand?’
