Alarm rippled along her spine. “I did not!”
“You used my Christian name and admitted to being alone with me without a chaperone in the middle of the night.”
“But surely you can explain—”
He leaned forward, a silken thread of warning in his voice. “Explain that we fought over a country property and lived together during the battle? Or explain that your crazed brother-in-law had shot me and is hunting you for a ledger that will prove the treasonous activities of your deceased husband?”
Her headache was returning, and her voice sounded shrill to her own ears. “This is not my fault! I did not ask for your protection or for you to bring me to Park Street. I sought to leave Lincoln’s Inn alone. I had my own lodgings. I would have been fine.”
“Fine?” he asked impatiently. “You wouldn’t have lasted another week without Rupert finding you.”
He was right, she knew it deep in her gut, yet a rebellious streak remained. “Then what should we do?”
“We can solve the problem with my grandmother and aid your situation by marrying at once.”
“Marry! You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, but I am.”
He didn’t appear upset at the notion of marriage as she would have predicted; rather a flicker of emotion—satisfaction, perhaps?—passed over his face, before he hid it with a smile.
“I thought you never wanted to marry, never wanted a family. That you thoroughly enjoyed your bachelorhood.”
“When I had first met you at Wyndmoor, I had no idea of your past. Things have changed between us, and what you had earlier said is true. I insisted you leave Lincoln’s Inn with me and come live under my roof. I will share the blame for last night’s circumstances.”
“You do not need to marry me. Many an heiress will be eager to—”
“The titled ladies of society do not interest me; they never have,” he said.
“And your grandmother? What does she think of this?”
“For the first time, she is in agreement with me. She insists I act honorably.”
“Of course! She wants grandchildren. An heir to the dukedom. And duty requires you produce the next generation.”
“Yes, that does seem to be high on her list,” James said dryly. “She has it in her head that she will be your chaperone and
properly
introduce you to society.”
The dowager’s conversation now made sense to Bella. She had woken in a fog, both from the blow to the head and the free-flowing wine of the prior evening. Bella hadn’t understood the dowager’s meaning, but in light of James’s proposal everything had become clear.
There was desperation in Bella’s voice. “Her reasoning is illogical. She knows I am a widow who has never borne children. I could be barren.”
“I don’t believe that to be true. You had said that you were not with your spouse in the biblical sense often. As for the dowager, I told her your husband was impotent. She understands it’s not an uncommon ailment in older men with much younger wives.”
Bella felt her face redden. She had been the one to tell James that Roger had been unable to bed her after the first months of their marriage, but never had she anticipated that the dowager would learn such intimate details.
“But I don’t want to remarry. I swore never to—”
Bella halted when James leaned forward and cupped her chin tenderly in his warm hand.
“Stop,” he said. “You are too young to be jaded. Your first marriage was a farce, a despicable arrangement to a mentally deranged old man. You are beautiful and young and desirable. By refusing my offer you are exposing yourself to the villainous exploits of Rupert Sinclair. You cannot fight this battle on your own, and as your husband I will be in a much better position to protect you. Last night’s debacle should have made that perfectly clear. Otherwise you will have to keep running from place to place looking over your shoulder. Is that what you wish?”
“No, but—”
His fingers lowered; his thumb rubbing the wildly beating pulse at the base of her throat. “Plus we are up to our necks in scandal. You cannot leave me at the gossips’ mercy—or, heaven help me, the dowager’s—can you?” He gave her a grin calculated to melt a lady’s heart.
Her heart pounded, and she felt light-headed. How on earth could a man be threatening and charming at once?
“I’m an untitled widow; my father was a merchant. I’m hardly duchess material.”
He laughed, a deep, rich sound. “I’m a barrister, raised as an illegitimate son, hardly ducal material.”
Once again, she had the distinct impression he had thought of this before, had considered proposing and had seized the opportunity of last night to launch a well-formulated argument as to why they should marry.
His hand slid down her arm and grasped her fingers. “Perhaps my proposal wasn’t what you expected. Let me remedy it.” He rose from the settee and walked to a pedestal desk in the corner. Picking up a square box, he strode to her side and knelt on one knee. “Bella Sinclair, will you do me the honor of becoming my duchess?”
He opened the box to reveal a stunning oval ruby surrounded by brilliant diamonds nestled in folds of black velvet. She stared in shock.
“It belonged to the last duchess and has been in the family for five generations. My mother never wore it, but I believe my wife should.”
“Oh, James,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
He slipped the ring on her finger. “Bella, the years I spent with other women were in hindsight a waste. I had yet to meet my match. I wandered aimlessly, bored and never satisfied. And then you held a fireplace poker over my head, and my life has never been the same since. We are intellectually and physically compatible. It is more than most couples ever dream of obtaining.”
She swallowed at his admission. It wasn’t a romantic declaration of undying love, but his motives were honorable. He sought to make things right, to protect her on two fronts. First from her brother-in-law, even though James was now aware that it was Rupert who had shot him. And second from her tattered reputation after she had carried on in front of his grandmother and her guests. He may not love her, but he cared for her, and she had fallen helplessly in love with him.
A knock on the door interrupted them, and the butler entered.
“Not now, Stodges,” James said tersely.
Stodges paled a shade, but held his ground. “Her ladyship wishes to speak with you.”
A split second later, the dowager swept inside. Shrewd blue eyes took in the large ruby on Bella’s left hand.
“Splendid,” she said. “I see congratulations are called for.”
“I do believe Bella was consenting to marry me,” James said.
Bella smiled weakly. “Yes, I suppose I have.”
The dowager clapped her hands in delight. “Stodges,” she called, “my best champagne.”
For the next hour, Bella smiled and sipped expensive champagne as the staff and the dowager wished her future happiness and a herd of children to carry on the House of Blackwood. James took it all in stride, leaning against the sideboard, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He really had accepted the turn of events with ease. She pushed her suspicion aside. There was no way he could have planned the embarrassing scene last night.
He hadn’t anticipated the highwaymen or her scandalous speech at the dowager’s party. But had he wanted to marry?
The dowager interrupted her musings.
“I realize your year of mourning has not passed, but I see no sense in waiting. James is a duke after all, and I have an influential position in society. The rigid rules have been bent before, I assure you, and since I will act as your chaperone, you will be accepted. I shall throw a ball in James’s honor as the new duke and formally announce your engagement. You shall require a new wardrobe, of course, but that shall not pose a problem. You are quite lovely, my dear.”
A ball. A new wardrobe. It was all happening so quickly. What of Rupert? The ledger was still missing, and Rupert was still an ominous threat.
Bella looked to James. He didn’t seem the least perturbed. Rather, he appeared surrounded by an air of calm—rakishly good-looking and confident. In short, he seemed very pleased with himself.
Chapter 31
Bella spent the remaining afternoon with the dowager learning the names, titles, and material wealth of the lords and ladies to whom she would be properly introduced—or, in certain instances, reintroduced after last night. A future duchess, the dowager instructed, had a rigid code of propriety that must be followed.
After the dowager deemed their first lesson finished, Bella was dismissed to change for dinner. She opened the door to find Harriet in the sitting room.
“Harriet!” Bella threw herself in her old nursemaid’s arms.
Harriet’s face beamed. “Congratulations! A duchess! The news has traveled like wildfire with the servants below stairs. I’m thrilled.”
“But it’s all happened so suddenly.”
“Not really, Bella. Blackwood has wanted you for some time. The man is head over heels in love with you.”
“No. He feels indebted and responsible for me,” Bella argued. “He hasn’t mentioned love.”
Harriet surveyed her kindly. “A dominant male like Blackwood will not easily speak eloquent words of love. You must judge him by his actions.”
Bella sighed and sat on a settee beneath a window overlooking the street. “His grandmother is planning a grand ball in James’s honor and intends to announce our engagement, but Rupert still roams the city. We were waylaid by highwaymen, and James suspects Rupert hired the criminals.”
“I heard about the highwaymen,” Harriet said in a dull and troubled voice.
“Then you must understand my fear. If Rupert hears of the ball, surely he will try to sneak in and confront me for the missing ledger!”
Harriet sat beside Bella and stroked a loose curl from her face. “Don’t fret, luv. Blackwood must have a plan. You no longer have to carry your burdens alone.”
Harriet spoke the truth. As James’s wife, Bella would be safeguarded. As a duchess, she would have her own power. Then why was there a creeping uneasiness at the bottom of her heart?
Dinner turned out to be a grand affair. Bella had hoped to have a word in private with James, but as she descended the staircase, the front door opened and James’s friends filled the vestibule. Bella was delighted to see Lady Evelyn standing beside Jack Harding.
“We’ve come to celebrate and wish you happiness,” Evelyn said.
James’s fellow barristers came forth one by one and kissed her cheek. Brent Stone offered her a warm, charming smile, his handsome countenance relaxed. He then turned to slap James heartily on the back and gave him a look that said,
I told you so.
Anthony Stevens was another matter entirely. He was polite, but distant, tilting his brow, looking at her uncertainly. His dark eyes showed the dullness of disbelief, and he seemed confused by it all.
No doubt,
Bella mused. Anthony’s legal career was spent trying to find ways to free men from their marital vows, and now another of his close friends was
volunteering
to be leg-shackled.
James placed Bella’s hand on his sleeve and headed for the dining room. There was a warm possessiveness in his touch when he guided her to her chair. His fingers brushed her collarbone and the tops of her shoulders and lingered. When his gaze fell to the creamy expanse of her neck, she blushed and struggled to contain the dizzying current racing through her.
Liveried footmen entered, carrying trays of lamb, fowl, and ham. The sideboard was laden with a dozen vegetable dishes, each served from gold-rimmed chafing dishes bearing the Blackwood crest. The wine was selected to complement the flavor of the dishes, and numerous footmen assured that the guests’ glasses were never empty.
The dowager was notably absent, and Bella learned she had a prior engagement. James seemed more than happy at his grandmother’s absence and seized the opportunity to discuss last night’s attack.
Bella understood that James shared his friends’ confidence, and she was not surprised that they all seemed to know the details of Rupert’s treason and his quest for the ledger. As Jack Harding’s wife, Evelyn would know as well.
“Rupert Sinclair has resorted to hiring criminals,” James said. “I’ve no doubt the highwaymen that attacked us last night were recruited by him.”
“It’s not difficult to hire local riffraff, and the man has the means to pay them,” Jack Harding said.
Bella spoke up. “Which brings me to my point. Is it wise for the dowager to hold a ball announcing our engagement? Rupert will attempt to gain entrance and could cause grave harm.”
“Exactly,” James said.
“You plan a trap, then?” Anthony asked.
“I do. We can leak news that the ledger has been found and is in my possession. Make it impossible for Rupert Sinclair
not
to make an appearance,” James said.
Brent grinned in approval. “It’s a bold move. He’ll come for you, for certain.”
“I’m planning on it,” James said. “But I don’t want him anywhere near Bella.”
Bella stared wordlessly across at James, her thoughts a crazy mixture of hope and fear. She no longer doubted James’s ability to defend her or himself. When James had been shot in the stables, he had been distracted by aiding an unconscious and bleeding Bobby; he hadn’t anticipated Rupert’s presence. But last night James had been ruthless with the highwaymen. Blue eyes blazing, he had dispatched his knife, his actions swift and unhesitant.
No, she knew James could handle Rupert. Rather, what had her heart pounding was his willingness to put himself at risk for her. Harriet’s words ran through her mind.
A dominant male like Blackwood will not easily speak eloquent words of love. You must judge him by his actions.
What little Bella knew of men, she knew one thing to be true—a man wouldn’t risk his life for just any woman.
James turned to Bella, seemingly oblivious to her rioting emotions. “Thanks to the physical description you gave the artist at Bow Street, we all know what Rupert looks like, and we will be alert to his presence. The element of surprise is on our side.”
“Jack and I will stay with Bella at the ball,” Evelyn said. “Brent and Anthony can stay with James.”
“We’ll all be armed, and I’ll retain extra men to act as footmen and keep a lookout,” James said.
All voiced their approval of the plan.
Despite her initial apprehension at hearing James’s plan with such unanimous agreement, Bella experienced a profound relief like she had never known. She’d been alone for so long, but now she had James and his friends on her side. She was accepted here, not looked down upon as weak-minded or maudlin—the way Roger had painted her to the Plymouth townsfolk—but a woman worth helping, worth
saving.
Ever since her marriage, Roger had isolated her from her friends and from her father until she had withdrawn into herself out of fear.
But now she was free to be herself, free to share her concerns and problems with people willing to help her and powerful enough to make a difference. Freedom, she now understood, didn’t necessarily mean single as a widow, but could mean being James’s wife and accepted into his circle of friends. Marriage with him would be a partnership, not a legal prison. It would offer her protection and security, and, yes,
love.
After the guests departed, the dowager returned from her function. Not wishing for another lesson on her future duties as a duchess, Bella retired to her room. Any private conversation with James, it seemed, would have to wait.
She was dressed in her nightgown, curled up on a leather arm chair and reading a draft of one of her writings when the low knock sounded.
Setting her notebook aside, she rose and cracked the door to find James leaning against the doorjamb. His hot gaze took in her prim nightgown and loose hair.
“Were you asleep?” he asked.
“No. I was reading.”
He slipped inside and locked the door.
For an instant, she wondered if she should insist he leave. His grandmother was somewhere in this mansion, even if she slept an entire wing away. Then he gathered her in his arms and kissed her with such tenderness she was lost.
“Ah, Bella,” he whispered against her ear. “All day and night you were beside me and I could not touch you. My frustration knew no bounds.”
“James,” she breathed. “We need to talk about this plan of yours.”
He kissed her forehead. “Later. Much, much later.”
He took her hand and led her into her bedroom.
She followed. “You’ve turned me into a wanton.”
“Yes.
My
wanton.”
His passionate kiss dissipated her thoughts, left her trembling with need. She was helpless to stop herself then. All of her loneliness and worry melded together in one upsurge of devouring yearning.
His fingers were rough with the tiny buttons of her nightgown, and with a frustrated growl, he ripped the fabric until it slid down her body to pool at her bare feet. She helped undress him until they were skin to skin.
His hands cupped her breasts, teasing, kneading. His lips seared a path down her throat to her breasts; then he devoured her flesh.
She felt wanton indeed. Wanton and desired ... and cherished.
They fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs and deep sighs. He shifted her to the edge of the mattress, her legs dangling. He kissed and licked his way down her soft belly and blew his breath on her silken curls. Then he set his mouth to her hot core.
She gasped, her eyes flew open and her fingers tangled in his dark hair. She tried to twist away, but he gave her no reprieve, his hands tightening on her waist. His tongue laved her, bold and wicked, caressing her most intimate flesh with infinite tenderness.
“James! I don’t know if—”
“
Shh.
Let me pleasure you this way.”
The tip of his tongue flicked over her aching bud, and she moaned. His seductive expertise, his ruthless gentleness, the merciless stroke of his fingers in her slick, feminine folds banished her inhibitions and she lay drowned in a floodtide of desire. Passion inched through her veins, and molten heat flooded her loins. She’d never felt pleasure so acute, and her body felt as if it were half ice and half flame.
She tugged on his hair. “James,” she pleaded. “I need ... I need you inside me.”
He rose above her and smoothly eased into her with one powerful thrust. She arched up to meet him, frantic to take him deeply, completely. He sensed her need, sensed her desperation and took her with powerful strokes. The heat between them flared into an inferno, joining him to her forever. She clutched his powerful shoulders and shut her eyes, savoring each moment, each blissful feeling as blood pounded through her heart, chest, and head.
“I love you,” she gasped. “I love you, James.”
James lay with Bella in his arms. Her body was warm and pliant, sated in the aftermath of their passion.
She loved him. His heart swelled, and he knew a relief so great it made him tremble. He wanted to spend the entire night holding her. He didn’t give a damn what his grandmother thought. But it was the notion of causing Bella any embarrassment that counseled discretion. He would have to tear himself away from her and make his way back to his own bedchamber.
She nestled against his shoulder. “Are you concerned?” she asked softly.
“No.”
“Hmmm.”
He rose on his elbow and looked down at her. “Do you trust me, Bella?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “But Rupert won’t stop until he has the ledger.”
He brushed his lips across hers. “Then I shall have to stop him.”
She gazed up at him and chewed on her bottom lip. “James, there’s something else I must tell you. Something that may change your mind about marrying me.”
“Nothing you can tell me will change my mind.”
She took a deep breath, then said, “The day Roger died we fought horribly. He confronted me at the top of the landing and when he raised his hand to strike me, I raised my own in defense and he ... he tripped and fell. I fear I may have ... killed him.”
James sighed. “You didn’t kill him, and I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“How do you know?”
“I told you once my investigator was very thorough. Roger Sinclair’s own servant said he was raging drunk and in a foul temper that day. If you raised your hand to protect yourself, then it was self-defense.”
“I feared the worst. That you would think I was a ... murderer,” she said.
“Listen, sweetheart. Even if you pushed him down the entire length of the hall and threw Roger Sinclair down the stairs to his death, I would not blame you. He was an abusive husband and deserved his fate.”
Her voice was weak and unsteady. “Rupert blames me. He said he could easily bribe one of the servants to testify that I pushed him.”