The Secret Mistress

Whatever the devil it did mean, it made all the difference.

And he was not even sure what that meant.

“I love you,” he added since she was uncharacteristically mute.

Her eyes seemed to fill her face. And they were swimming in unshed tears.

“You do not.” Her voice was accusing. “You do not believe in love.”

“If I ever said anything so asinine,” he said, “I must have been lying. I love my mother and my sisters and my grandmother and my nieces and nephews. I even love my grandfather. And I love you—in an entirely different way. I am going to ask you again to marry me. I’ll do it when we are back at Hallings and when the time seems right. And this time I am not going to go down on one knee. Whoever started that ridiculous tradition ought to be horsewhipped, except that I suppose he is long dead.”

She was smiling through her tears.

“I will not demand it of you,” she said. “But how do you know I will say yes?”

He wagged one finger pendulum fashion before her face.

“No more games,” he said. “There have been enough games to last us both a lifetime, Angeline. They are at an end. I am going to offer you marriage because I love you and would be unable to live a happy, fulfilled life without you. And you are going to marry me because you love me.”

A wave of uncertainty washed over him, but he mentally shook it off. It was time to take a stand. He had the feeling he would be doing it for the rest of his life—except when she was bowling him over with some madness or he was simply indulging her because he had no desire whatsoever to take a stand.

Devil take it, life was going to be complicated. He was never going to know whether he stood on his feet or on his head.

“You are very sure of yourself,” she said.

“I am.” He clasped his hands behind his back and resisted the foolish urge to cross his fingers.

The private parlor, indeed the whole inn, was suddenly very quiet. Somewhere in the distance a clock ticked loudly.

“We had better follow Miss Goddard and Lord Windrow in your carriage,” she said. “Perhaps we can catch up to them before they reach Norton, and our traveling alone together will not appear too, too improper.”

“I do not have a carriage with me,” he said. “I rode here.”

“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip. “Whatever are we going to do, then?”

He had known what they were going to do the moment he heard Windrow’s carriage drive away. He had known it with a ruthless certainty, just as he knew that Windrow would stop here for them in the morning. He would not wish to arrive back at Hallings alone with Eunice, after all, even if she did have a maid with her. Good Lord, he might feel obliged to offer for her, and that would be a disaster of catastrophic proportions for Windrow—not to mention Eunice.

“We are going to stay here,” he said.

Her eyes widened again. “Tresham would kill me,” she said. “So would Ferdie. Do you suppose there are two free rooms?”

He guessed there were as many free rooms as there were rooms at the inn, but it was an academic point.

“I have no doubt there is one free room,” he said, “which we will take. As Mr. and Mrs. Ailsbury. Have a seat and I will go and see to it.”

Her lips parted and color flooded her cheeks. Her mouth formed an O, but no sound came out.

He leaned an inch or two closer to her and searched her eyes with his own.

“The time for games is over, Angeline,” he said again. “And the time for misunderstandings. It is time to love.”

But not yet in that way, surely. Such a thing would have been unthinkable to him just a week ago. Even yesterday. Even an hour ago. What was he thinking? But he did not particularly want to know. He had spent his life thinking, reasoning, figuring out what was the right and proper thing to do, working out how not to hurt those he loved and those in his care. He had loved. All his life. And yet he had never … loved.

Yes, sometimes thought was pointless. For some things were beyond thought or at least beyond logic.

Love had always been a duty, even if the love had been genuine.

Love had never been … freedom.

Freedom to ruin an innocent young lady?

Freedom to love her.

“Tell me you love me,” he said.

“I love you,” she told him.

“Tell me you will stay here with me,” he said. “Tell me you want to. Or tell me not and I will contrive something. There is probably some carriage or gig here I can hire to take you to Norton.”

So much for forceful, masterful behavior. So much for taking a stand.

“I will stay,” she said. “I will go to the ends of the earth with you if you ask it of me. I will—” She smiled and bit her lip. “You do not want a speech, do you?”

“Are you quite sure?” he murmured.

She gazed into his eyes and nodded—which was speech enough.

IT WAS A surprisingly large chamber for such an insignificant-looking inn. It was square and neat and light and airy. There were wooden beams overhead, some of them sloping with the shape of the roof down over the head of the bed, which had no canopy. The window looked out on fields and meadows and was framed by pretty, flower-patterned white curtains.

The bed was covered with a counterpane that matched the curtains. There was an upright chair on either side of the bed. There was a washstand with bowl and jug, and a large wooden dresser with a square mirror attached to it.

Angeline could see her image in the mirror even though she was standing some distance from it. She could see her hat, a straw wide-brimmed bonnet trimmed with a whole meadow of flowers of all descriptions and colors. It was definitely her favorite—well, one of her favorites, anyway. It was tied beneath her chin with bright green silk ribbons. She pulled the ribbons loose and removed the hat. She hooked it over the uprights of one of the chairs.

Then she felt naked. An unfortunate thought.

Lord Heyward had crossed the room and was opening the window as wide as it would go and then closing the curtains over it. They flapped gently in the breeze. They did not dim the light but only made it softer, somehow more rosy-hued. The air smelled enticingly of country and clover and horse. Somewhere close to the inn a horse whinnied. Much farther away a dog barked. A whole choir of birds was singing.

Angeline’s heartbeat was thundering in her ears. She felt slightly sick with fear and excitement.

He was looking at her from over by the window.

“Would you like to dine first?” he asked.

First?