A Scandalous Proposal (19 page)

“We were working on it,” she told him, patting his hand. “We would have come up with something soon. We will, won't we?”

“There's no more time for finesse, I'm afraid. I'll have to directly confront him, find out what he really knows about...about Quatre Bras.”

Dany withdrew her hand. She couldn't let him know how that prospect terrified her. Besides, she had something else on her mind. “Probably more than I know, which is nothing. Do
you
know something, my lord Townsend? I believe I'm rather more angry with you than I'm frightened for what Ferdie is planning. What do you intend to do about that?”

“At the moment? Nothing.”

“Nothing? How—how can you say that?”

“Dany, it's not my secret to tell, only mine to keep. Besides, Ferdie may be bluffing. He certainly didn't have the thing correct in the chapbooks, thank God.”

“The signet ring.” She nodded her understanding. “And not the woman? I know what you said, but I feel compelled to ask again.”

“I had rather thought you would. I've been putting some thought to that. He seems bent on condemning me as a rotter with women, which is a far cry from the truth of the matter. The more I consider the thing, the more I really think he's been bluffing about knowing something havey-cavey about Quatre Bras, and just made a lucky guess on that end, probably so that I'm disgraced in the eyes of the Crown that, remember, showered me with a title and estate. Not that I wouldn't be destroyed, in either case, not to mention imagining my head on the block if he did somehow know the entire truth.” He stood up, and held out his hands to assist her to her feet. “Come on, we'll take a walk. This might be easier if you're not looking directly at me.”

Dany quickly complied. She was getting what she wanted. Now to see if she might have been better off not knowing. “Do you want me to put my bonnet on again, to act as blinders?”

He slipped an arm around her waist, and she returned the favor. “No, you're short enough. As long as you don't raise your head and skewer me with those resolve-melting eyes of yours,” he joked, planting a kiss on her hair.

She couldn't be bothered with feeling happy about his clear admiration of her eyes. “Just tell me one thing before you begin. Have you told Darby and Rigby the truth? Anyone?”

“I've been lying, hopefully convincingly, to anyone who asks, mixing fact with a bit of fiction. I don't think I've given the same answer twice, so that I'm even confused from time to time as to which lie I told last. To know the whole truth would put them in danger. I also feel the truth doesn't show me in the best of lights, I'm afraid. Are you sure you still want to know?”

“I'm not going to have anyone drive me around Mayfair, shouting out the truth to anyone, so yes, I think I'll be safe enough, thank you. Besides, men usually don't tell women anything important, do they?”

Coop laughed. “Would you like an abbreviated listing of the empires that have fallen, just on that mistaken assumption? Oh, and notice that I'm telling you something important, and have been, since the day we met.”

Dany sighed. “Yes, but I'm very persuasive.” Then she lowered her head to cover her blush, as the true import of what she'd just said struck home.

They walked along the bank of the stream, Dany ignoring the beauty of their surroundings, barely able to contain herself as Coop apparently searched for a way to tell her about that day at Quatre Bras.

“You know that we were in Brussels, awaiting Bonaparte, hoping he'd lag behind Blücher's arrival, as we were very possibly outnumbered. Plus, it was Bonaparte, the acknowledged master of military strategy. Wellington had his victories, but he'd never before faced the emperor.”

“May I nod, indicating I do know that?”

“Yes, you may nod,” he agreed, dropping another kiss on the top of her head.

“Good. You may also take that nod as meaning please get to the point.”

“I'm more used to giving orders, you know. But I will attempt to be brief. Bonaparte was on the loose, and gathering support at an alarming rate. This less than a year after the Peace Celebrations and Prinny acting cock of the walk as the man who'd bested the upstart Napoleon. Our Prince Regent apparently was curled up under the covers in his bed, fearing the English populace might rise in support of the common man. Remember, our returning soldiers had not come home to a land suddenly running with milk and honey, but to half pay and soaring prices, and were quickly forgotten. The French had to be soundly defeated in Belgium, once and for all, and Bonaparte put in a cage he could not possibly escape. Wellington and our allies were a strong force to be reckoned with but, rather like Ned Givens, Prinny didn't quite like the odds. He, or probably his advisers, decided to even those odds.”

“That was fairly concise, thank you. Go on.”

“I suppose I should release you from your vow of silence, since you seem beyond adhering to it, anyway. Very well. Bonaparte had one weakness. Two actually. His wife, the Empress Marie Louise, and his son, Napoleon the Second, born the King of Rome, among other titles. Both had fled France and were safely ensconced in Austria, where the empress supposedly formally renounced her husband as a criminal, opening the door for all of Europe to capture and cage him.”

Dany nodded again, and then again. She was aware of the story, and had wondered how much influence the empress's family had exerted on her to brand the father of her child a criminal.

“Bonaparte was desperate to be reunited with his wife and child. Prinny and his advisers...well, it appears they decided to give him that opportunity. If not them precisely, somehow or other Prinny had to be in on the plot up to his third chin, or else I never would have been declared the hero of anything, let alone named a baron.”

“The woman in the field. That was the
empress
?” Dany quickly lowered her head, and apologized. “Forgive me. Go on. But please hurry.”

“I don't know who the woman was—we didn't exchange introductions—but she could curse like a fishmonger, in both French and German, and gifted me with a few nasty scratches on my cheek. Once I got her safely into the trees and stood her up, and her cloak fell away, I was immediately struck by her resemblance to the empress. I'd seen portraits, you understand, not that I wasn't helped by the fact that she was wearing what appeared to be diamonds, and had Bonaparte's seal embroidered on the bodice of her gown.

“The children, as I found out once the woman promised the truth in return for her release, were local orphans, most all of them the same age as the Prince of Rome. They—the
they
to always remain a mystery to me—had been deciding which orphan best resembled the boy, and had all of them stashed in a cottage, presumably safe while they went off to negotiate with one of Bonaparte's marshals. She heard the sounds of approaching soldiers, the servants ran off, leaving them behind, and she decided it would be safer to follow the servants' lead than find herself trapped behind the stone wall. At any rate, the Grande Armée surrenders, all the marshals are given pardons and Bonaparte is generously allowed to meet with his wife and heir one last time. Oh, and with the son officially named heir to the throne of France. He would never get close enough to realize he wasn't seeing his true wife and son, of course. They'd simply be
displayed
, from a distance.”

“Would his marshals have agreed, would Bonaparte? Again, I apologize. But it sounds so far-fetched.”

He stopped, turned her about and they began retracing their steps to the gazebo.

“Again, we'll never know. Bonaparte's love for his son, and his own legacy, could have been the deciding factors. He had to know, in his heart, that his cause was lost. But regardless of the possible outcome, the world could not know that England had even attempted such a dishonorable scheme, especially if it failed. I let the woman go—or should I say she ran off the moment I released her arm—and took the orphans back to camp with me.

“I believe she must have met up with her employers and told them what happened, and they would have immediately realized I'd seen the woman, spoken with the woman, seen the crest embroidered on her gown. Directly after Bonaparte fled the field that last day, since I hadn't conveniently died in battle, I was scooped up and whisked back to England, to meet with the Prince Regent and his cronies. You know the rest.”

“The title, the estate. The threat that accompanied them. Yet what else could you have done?”

“I could have died in battle, and His Royal Highness could have merely commissioned a statue in some far corner of Green Park or somewhere, and spent far less money. Still, I like to tell myself I made the only sensible choice in the circumstances. I wasn't about to open my country to ridicule and censure. I wasn't quite ready to spend my days waiting for some sort of fatal accident. I reluctantly allowed myself to become the famed and feted hero of Quatre Bras, and Prinny basked in that reflected glory. I think it was another good fortnight before any oranges were flung at his carriage when he went out and about.”

Now Dany did raise her head, to smile at Coop, to see her smile returned.

“And that's the whole of it?”

“That's the whole of it, yes. Strangely, I feel better, having told you.”

“I'm glad. Will you tell the others?”

“Never, no. You'll have to keep the secret with me.”

“I will, I will,” she vowed fervently. “Not because you weren't brave and honorable, but because you
were
brave and honorable. You do know that, don't you? At the end of the day, you saved those children, that woman, at great danger to yourself, and with no expectation of reward. You're a hero, Cooper Townsend. Don't ever forget that, please.”

They were back at the gazebo now, and Coop held her elbow as he assisted her up the three steps to the interior, hung with gauzy white draperies and sporting padded benches along its eight-sided perimeter, with a large white linen chaise at its center, a soft yellow blanket draped over the back.

Dany imagined Darby had personally designed the interior, and the placement of the gazebo itself, to his own specifications.

And here comes another blush to give away my thoughts. Shame on me for even thinking about such things in the first place.

Still, she tugged the coverlet half onto her lap as she semireclined on one side of the chaise. She bounced twice, testing its softness. It was very comfortable.

And secluded.

And...convenient.

“Dany?”

She looked up at Coop, blinking.

“Yes,” she said. She didn't ask, inquire, question. She said
yes.

Hopefully he would understand...

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

H
ER
INDIGO
EYES
were wide with wonder, anticipation, a hint of humor only slightly shadowed by apprehension.

He wondered what she saw in
his
eyes.

He wondered if she was having as much trouble breathing as he was, as if his body had turned that responsibility solely over to him, and if he didn't concentrate he would not breathe at all.

She didn't know. She'd never questioned.

Or she'd never doubted.

Did it matter?

She was his, convenient betrothal be damned, the ring be damned, the world be damned.

She was his. From the moment she'd first looked into his eyes. Then. Now. Forever.

Her mouth was warm beneath his, her skin soft and silky as he kissed away her clothing, his senses fired by her tentative touch as she returned the favor.

Stroke. Touch. Learn.

With all the time in the world, with all the care he could hope to convey through each new gentle advance.

Always ready to stop. A constant prayer in his head that she wouldn't ask that of him.

That he wouldn't ask it of himself.

She moaned softly as he took her nipple into his mouth, raising herself so that he could cup her, hold her, introduce her to the world of sensual pleasure.

He moved to kiss her again, keep her at a level of pleasure unmixed with pain as he managed to somehow unbutton his breeches.

Advance. Retreat. Kiss, and kiss again. Taste and touch and swirling passion mixed with a tenderness that threatened to bring him to tears.

God
.
Thank You, God. What did I do to deserve such a precious gift?

Coop lifted his head, to look down into Dany's face as he slowly slid his hand down her perfect body. He pressed his palm against her lower belly, and watched as her pupils went wide and dark.

She licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. He watched as her throat worked when she swallowed, blinked up at him.

His heart pounded. With the rapid beat of life, of the exquisite pain of love he hadn't known existed.

He moved his hand, slipping it between her thighs even as he claimed her mouth once more with lips and tongue.

She opened for him. Flowered for him.

He mimicked his motions, tongue and exploring fingers. Cajoled. Comforted. Knew the moment when apprehension was replaced by pleasure. Pleasure he was giving her, longed to give her.

She moaned quietly, moving her hips as if she thought he'd leave her.

He dared to become more intimate, but she immediately stiffened, her thighs tensing.

“It's all right, it's all right,” he soothed against her mouth. “I'll stop.”

She shook her head. Rather violently actually.

He couldn't help but smile.

What had he been thinking? Dany would never call a halt at the first fence. It wasn't in her nature.

Slowly, as he levered a leg between hers, he began whispering in her ear. “I don't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. But just this once, I will, I must.”

She wrapped her arms around his back and lifted her lower body against him. No words. No fear. Just a silent yet definite
yes
.

“But quickly,” she told him, her fingertips digging into his back.

“No going back,” he warned.

“No going back,” she agreed on a sigh.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He felt her tense; he knew the moment he'd broken beyond the thin barrier. He held her close as he gave her everything, as she took him in.

He wanted to be gentle. He had every intention of being gentle, slowly introducing her to what he hoped would be a building pleasure, at least enough to give her the promise that next time, and all the times after this, there would be nothing but pleasure.

But he hadn't counted on Dany.

Somehow, amid the tangle of clothing and the soft, sun-warmed cashmere throw, she managed to free her legs, bringing them up and around his back, keeping him close as he began to move inside her.

Her courage lent him courage. Dany was a woman now, of her own free will, her own free choice.

She could walk away once this business of blackmail was settled, and Mari was settled. He could walk away, both of them having agreed this was only a sham betrothal.

Yet she'd given herself to him. Without a backward glance, without demanding anything of him. And damn the consequences.

Or did she trust him that much? Was there even more there than trust? He dared to hope.

“Dany...” he breathed, claiming her mouth again. He could never, would never, get enough of her kisses. He could survive for days with no other sustenance but the sweet taste of her.

Coop was in awe, reverent even as his passion built, but he would continue to hold back, be gentle, slowly, carefully, bring her at least some measure of pleasure...even if it killed him.

But Dany wasn't so reticent.

Her fingertips dug into his back would leave marks. She raised herself to meet him each time he dared to go deeper, matching him move for move. He could hear her quick, shallow breaths. He could feel her heart beating against his chest.

He raised his head, looking down into her eyes. Those deeply blue, all-expressive eyes. The expression of wonder was still there, now accompanied by revelation, and perhaps even a bit of impatience.

Bless her. Dany, the fearless.

“Are you certain? I'm not hurting you? Because...”

She scissored her legs higher on his back.

He had his answer.

Nature has a way of protecting the innocent, and that's what they were at this moment, two innocents, navigating their way through unfamiliar territory, guided only by instinct.

Sex. Any two people could fumble their way through that age-old act.

But to care, really
care
?
Adding that unexpected dimension to what came naturally?

Being with Dany this way, Coop felt himself as much the virgin as she had been until a few short minutes ago. As his passion grew, another emotion grew with it, blossomed, burst into full flower the moment he felt her body convulse around him. Her pleasure ignited him, took him beyond anything he'd known, and when he spilled inside her he felt tears stinging at the backs of his eyes.

He lay on top of her for long moments, both of them recovering their breath, waiting for their hearts to ease back from the mad gallops they had been that had helped them race to the brink, and beyond.

He looked down on her face, again attempting to gauge her reaction, only to see tears running out of the corners of her eyes, sliding into her ears. Yet she smiled, raised a hand to cup his cheek.

He turned his mouth into her palm, pressed a kiss against her warm flesh.

“That...that was interesting.”

Only Dany could say something like that and make him laugh.

“I agree,” he told her, carefully levering himself away from her, just enough to remove some of his weight. Still watching her, he fumbled for the cashmere throw, drawing it up and over her.

Dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose, he sat up, his back to her, located his jacket and retrieved the linen square handkerchief.

“Stay,” he told her as he got to his feet, one hand holding up his pantaloons. He felt he presented a less than romantic figure, but there was nothing else for it.

“Stay? Am I graduated now to your trusty hound?”

“Absolutely,” he told her with a smile, and then took himself off to the stream, dipping the handkerchief in it, catching his breath in his throat as he saw the merest streaking of red that clung to him.

Once buttoned and tucked and reasonably decent, he rinsed the handkerchief and carried it back to the gazebo, only to see that Dany apparently had fallen asleep.

So much for any niggling worries he might have harbored about tears, uncomfortable questions or recriminations.

He lifted the throw and bent over her, kissing her awake, whispering into her ear, even as he slipped the wet handkerchief into her hand and then took himself off again, only returning when she asked his assistance in rebuttoning her gown, standing behind her to secure the buttons, kissing her shoulder, smiling as she tipped back her head against his chest.

“We have to go,” he told her as she busied herself folding the throw and replacing it on the back of the chaise.

“I know. We have to go back to the world, and all our problems. Including the fact that I doubt I will be able to look Darby, or Harry, for that matter, in the face ever again.”

“Harry was trained to be discreet, having been in my mother's employ since he was out of leading strings, and Darby has what he terms a selective memory. At least he won't tease. Well, he won't tease you. I don't think I'll be so fortunate.”

Together, stealing kisses across the expanse of the blanket, they gathered up the remnants of their uneaten meal before Coop took her hand and led her back toward the cottage.

Harry was already waiting with the curricle, holding one of the bay's heads, a bit of residue from what had probably been a cherry tart clinging to his chin and a wide smile on his face.

Once they were away from the estate and heading back to Portman Square, Coop felt the world slipping back into his consciousness, doing its best to crowd out more recent, definitely more pleasant memories.

Dany appeared to be suffering from the same depressing letdown.

“Have you decided
how
you're going to approach this Ferdie person? You more than hinted that finding something with which to turn the tables on him is no longer possible now that he knows he's been found out. But then what do you do? What can any of us do? To stop the publication of another chapbook destroying you, of retrieving Mari's foolish letters?”

“Some plans are in motion, but they won't suffice on their own. Ferdie attempted to coerce Geoff into killing me. I doubt that having Geoff conveniently sidelined by injury will stop Ferdie for long, once he discovers that Geoff did a flit.”

He turned to look at her, sure he was about to set off their very first verbal fight, and not a half hour after they'd made love. “In any event, until he's taken care of, you are confined to Portman Square.”

“I will not!”

He needed to be direct, and firm. “Dany, don't I have enough on my mind?”

She faced front, her arms crossed, and pouted.

“Dany?”

“Yes, yes, I was going to answer you. Reluctantly. You're right,” she said at last, sighing rather theatrically. “But I expect Rigby and Darby to have your back. They will, won't they?”

“Yes.” But Coop was far from relaxing. Dany obeyed when she wanted to obey. He'd learned that well enough in only these few days. “I'd move you to the duchess's mansion, but you need to remain with your sister. What if Oliver were to return before we have the letters? She'd need you.”

“Again, I have to agree. Will you at least tell me what these other plans are that you have set in motion?”

He attempted to hold back a smile, but failed. “Minerva and the duchess are involved, along with an eager-to-help Clarice Goodfellow. And believe it or not, the whole thing was Rigby's idea. I only had to agree to not interfere and ‘Get on with it,' as Minerva told Darby and me to...”

The shot came from the trees to their left, and Harry cried out in pain.

Coop reacted with a soldier's quickness, never slowing the curricle.

“Harry!”

“Here, sir. It's m'leg, sir.”

“Hold on! Dany, can you take the reins?”

She already had her hands out to accept them. “We all need to learn sometime. Grab him, Coop, before he tumbles off.”

Coop didn't have time to worry about her inexperience. The roadway was far from crowded, and straight as far ahead as he could see. He turned on the bench seat, snagged Harry by the front of his shirt, lifted him clear of the seat and pulled him forward so that he landed facedown between them, then managed to right him on the seat before taking back the reins.

The time—from the sound of the shot, to Harry's yelp of pain, to taking back the reins while Dany cradled the tiger tightly against her—had been no more than a few seconds.

Seconds that had seemed like a lifetime.

“Holding on?”

“Holding on,” Dany replied. “Ferdie heard the news about that Geoff person sooner than you thought?”

“And made other plans, also sooner than I thought. Are you certain you're all right?”

“I am, at least as all right as anyone would be in similar circumstances, I suppose. But Harry's bleeding.”

“Jist a nick, ma'am,” the boy said cheekily, his head against Dany's breast as he smiled up at her in some adoration. “Jist a wee dizzy, that's all.” He then wound both arms around Dany's waist.

“I'll pull to the side of the road, once I'm certain nobody's in pursuit.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Dany told him. “From the look of his trousers, he was only grazed by the ball. Mostly, it ripped them. Um, could you spring the horses a little more? This may sound silly, but I think my back itches.”

He grinned at her. “Mine, too. We're already seeing more traffic on the road. I'll soon have to slow down in any case.”

“Then do that, and I'll tend to poor Harry here as we keep moving.”

“Poor Harry, m'mum's only baby,” the boy said on a sigh, snuggling even closer, until Coop was tempted to give the boy a clap on the ear. Except that the lad had taken a shot clearly intended for him, a shot that could just as easily have found Dany.

They'd put a good mile between themselves and the failed assassin, and now there were two coaches riding behind them, and an empty farm wagon in front of them. They were slowed to a near walk.

“You can let go now, Harry, unless you think you might faint?”

“Yes, m'lord.”

“Close your eyes, Harry,” Dany told him as she bent forward, lifted her skirt and proceeded to tear a strip off her petticoat. “There. Now let's just wrap this around your leg, all right?”