Persuasion (18 page)

She sank slowly back against the pillows. It was a moment before she spoke. “You were shouting in your sleep.”

Still leaning toward her, his eyes blazed. “Was I?” Then his lashes lowered. She took a moment to notice the flush on his high cheekbones.

They lifted. A new light was smoldering there. “Did the boys enjoy the story?”

She ignored his question. “Who is Lafleur? You even spoke in French. What were you dreaming about?”

His expression never changed, although his mouth curled slightly. “
La fleur
means the flower. I doubt you heard me speaking of flowers, Amelia.”

“I think it was someone’s name, like Danton.”

His face hardened, but the slight curve of his lips never changed. He spoke very softly. And as he did, he leaned ever so slightly closer. “Damn it, Amelia, I hired you to take care of my children, not to pry.” His gaze slithered over her bodice again.

She was wearing a drab gray gown with a rounded neckline and three-quarter sleeves. But she felt as if she were in an impossibly daring, low-cut evening dress, or worse, not wearing anything at all.

Amelia felt her cheeks flame. She knew she should get up and get out of that bed but she did not dare move. His arm and his body were in her way. “Were you dreaming about the war?”

For one moment, he stared, his gaze predatory. “Why would I dream about the war, when I don’t give a damn what happens over there?”

“I am not sure I believe you,” Amelia whispered, still hugging herself. Somewhere she heard Lucille crying.

“The infant is crying. Aren’t you going to go help the nurse?”

“No. I am beginning to believe that you might care about the war after all. Simon, you can trust me.”

He straightened, folding his arms across his chest. The gesture caused his biceps to bulge. An odd half smile formed on his face, but it was mirthless. His expression had a ruthless quality to it. “I think you should go tend the child. I do not care for this interrogation.”

She tensed. “I would never interrogate you! But Julianne told me that Georges Danton was recently executed in Paris.”

Surprise covered his face.

She had caught him, because it was a second before he rearranged his expression into passivity and indifference. And that told her he knew all about Danton’s execution; he just hadn’t expected her to know about it or even mention it.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

He was lying. “I think you know very well what I am talking of. I heard you crying out for Danton, just as I heard you cry out for another Frenchman named Lafleur!” She inhaled, praying for calm, because there was no mistaking the anger filling his eyes. “I want to help.”

Fury turned his gaze black. He leaned over her again, one hand on each side of her hip. “You know how you can help. I believe I made myself very clear last time. You entered these premises—my private rooms—at your own risk.”

She was trapped between him and the pillows piled against the headboard of the bed. His face was so close that she felt his warm breath on her skin. “You are changing the subject.”

He slowly smiled, some of the fury in his eyes fading. “Am I? Because the only subject I am cognizant of is that there is a lovely woman in my room.” His smile vanished. “Amelia, you are in my bed.”

His tone had become soft and seductive. Her heart leaped exultantly. “I know,” she began helplessly. “I am not sure how to get past you.”

He put his knee on the bed, as if to press her down and cover her body with his. “I am not sure I would let you flee, even if you wanted to,” he murmured. “And I think you do not want to flee. You could have done so at any time.”

Amelia bit her lip hard, because he was right. But even as their gazes locked, even as she knew he was going to kiss her, the same questions that had afflicted her last night arose. Could she really give him her body when she wanted to give him her love? What about her morals? What about the children? And what about her own future?

She freed her arm, which had been trapped between them, and cupped his jaw. “Will you ever let me help you? Will you ever tell me the truth?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. A shudder went through him as he turned his head and kissed the center of her palm, hard. She also shuddered, incipient waves of pleasure washing through her. “I don’t remember.... I don’t care. I only care about this, that you are here with me now.” He kissed her palm again before placing it on his collarbone, beneath his wet shirt. His skin was damp and hot, but not as hot as his eyes, which were searing.

She slid her hand lower, over the slab of one chest muscle, his nipple instantly hard and taut beneath her hand. And she recalled touching him everywhere, in the shameless throes of passion, ten years ago. His other knee came down on the bed and he straddled her. Simon bent, eyes closing, and he feathered his mouth over her jaw.

She sighed. “Do you always sleep with a loaded pistol by your bed?”

He lifted his head and looked at her. “It is an old habit, Amelia. Some habits die hard.”

She reached for his face again. “Some old habits never die.”

His eyes blazed and he claimed her mouth with his.

Amelia cried out as his mouth opened hers, settling his body on hers. She wrapped him in her arms, kissing him back urgently. But even as she kissed him and he kissed her, she kept thinking, this was an affair, not a marriage. What would happen to the children when it ended?

What would happen to her?

He lifted his face, breaking the kiss, and cupped her face in his hands. “What is it?”

She opened her mouth and then stopped herself from blurting out her feelings,
I love you.
Instead she managed to say, “I want you, Simon, very much. I care about you, very much.”

His gaze roamed hers, his face anguished. “But it is not to be. It is not right. The children come first. And you deserve more than a few hours in my bed.”

She nodded and she felt tears moistening her eyes. God, she deserved more and she wanted more.... Why didn’t he offer her more?

He suddenly kissed her again, fiercely. Then he leaped up from the bed. “Lucille is still crying. Please attend her, Amelia.” His back was to her.

For one moment, Amelia didn’t move. Why did this feel like a terrible ending? She did not want anything to end, she wanted everything to begin!

“Amelia,” he snapped.

She somehow scrambled from the bed and hurried from the room. He was right—Lucille was wailing. She must be colicky, she thought. And her worry for the infant finally pushed her need for Grenville back where it belonged, into the recesses of her heart and mind. Amelia rushed to Mrs. Murdock’s door and knocked. She was told to immediately enter.

“Oh, this is the worst case of colic that she has had,” the governess wailed.

“It will pass,” Amelia said, aware that Mrs. Murdock was staring at her disheveled hair and flushed cheeks. She took the baby from her and began to pace the room, while rocking her and singing to her. She glanced at the governess, wondering if the secret she and Grenville shared was out.

It took some time, but eventually, Lucille quieted and fell asleep.

Amelia held her closely, thinking about Simon. What was she going to do? He was in danger—and she was dangerously in love.

And then she looked up.

Simon stood on the threshold of the nursery, clad in a simple caftan now. And he was staring at her and the baby.

Lucille had fallen asleep. It didn’t matter. Amelia approached. “Do you want to hold her?” she asked, praying he would accept.

But he shook his head. His gaze hooded and dark, impossible to read, he bowed his head and left.

Amelia held the baby and watched him go.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

L
LOYD
HAD
JUST
INFORMED
HER
that she had a caller. It was Lucas.

Amelia hesitated, and not because she knew that they would have an argument over her position in Simon’s household. She was the housekeeper. Where on earth would they converse?

“Miss Greystone, his lordship is out for the afternoon.”

She smiled at Simon’s butler. “Are you suggesting I entertain my brother in one of his rooms?”

“You were the mistress of Greystone Manor until recently. Had Lady Grenville not passed, you would not have taken up the position that you have. If you wish to entertain Mr. Greystone, I would suggest you use the pink room. It is rarely used and I do not think his lordship would mind.” He gave her a significant look.

Her heart thrummed. She was fairly certain that Mrs. Murdock suspected that she had been in Simon’s arms last night. Had the governess already spread such a rumor? What else could that look have meant?

Her cheeks heating, she debated having Lucas come to visit her in the kitchens, where she and Lloyd were discussing the matter of his visit. But that might only serve to inflame her brother. And he would be right to object to her employment, she thought, because last night she had almost succumbed to temptation.

“Very well.” She removed her apron. “But I am not going to entertain him, Lloyd. It is not my place to do so. We will not need any refreshments. I am sure this call will be short.” When she saw that he was poised to object, she patted his shoulder. “My brother is a busy man and I am a busy housekeeper.”

Amelia left the kitchens, her stride brisk. She knew exactly how the conversation was going to go, and she knew she was going to have to proceed with the utmost caution. She did not want Lucas to suspect that she had fallen in love with Simon—if she had ever stopped loving him—or that their passions were running rampant. If he ever guessed the truth, he would remove her from Lambert Hall, no matter how she objected.

She smiled widely as she entered the foyer, although that felt entirely artificial. Lucas was impatiently waiting, studying the various oils on the walls. He turned as she appeared on the hall’s threshold.

Lucas was as dashing as ever, even plainly dressed. He wore a simple and unadorned dark brown coat with a black-velvet collar and cuffs, a gold vest beneath it. His golden hair was drawn into a queue. But he was tall and handsome, his presence powerful and commanding. In spite of the dilemma she was in, she loved him. He would always be the brother she could count upon.

He did not smile back at her. Bicorne hat in hand, he strode to her. “Hello, Amelia. Imagine my surprise when I received your letter upon arriving at Cavendish Square last night.” His gray eyes flashed with ire.

She looped her arm in his firmly, and planted an equally firm kiss on his cheek. “I am thrilled that you are back in town. I have missed you.” She started to lead him into the west wing.

“Do not even attempt to manipulate me! You are Grenville’s housekeeper?” He was incredulous.

He knew her far too well, she thought nervously, somehow maintaining a smile. “When I realized how his children needed me, there was no possible way I could refuse. And the boys are doing so well, Lucas.”

He studied her grimly as Amelia led him into the small salon with pale pink walls, white ceilings and gilded trim. She released him to shut the door behind them.

“Are you in one piece?” he demanded.

She whirled, her heart slamming, but she spoke mildly. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I have not forgotten that, ten years ago, he flirted with you outrageously. It means I have not forgotten that you were madly in love.” His stare was unwavering. “It was one thing to help with his children after the funeral, Amelia, but this is out of all bounds.”

She noticed that he had circles under his eyes. “That was ten years ago. I was sixteen years old, Lucas. Now I am a grown and intelligent woman. You know that I am a woman of compassion. His children are doing so much better now and I am happy to take some credit for that.”

“And how is Grenville doing?” he asked pointedly.

She prayed she did not flush. “He remains afflicted by his loss.” She paused, suddenly wanting to ask Lucas what he thought about Simon’s odd behavior. But then he would suspect even more than he did now! She quickly decided to change the subject. “When did you get back? While your shoes are hardly dusty, you seem tired.”

“I got back in the middle of the night, Amelia. I haven’t slept in days, frankly, and I could not sleep after I read your letter,” he said tersely.

She forgot about defending her position to him. “Were you where I think you were?” Had he been in France, helping unfortunate families emigrate?

His gray gaze narrowed. “I was at the mine.”

They both knew that was a lie. “Lucas!” She rushed to him and took his hands in hers. “I have seen Julianne. She has told me how horrible it is in France now. It isn’t safe for you to set foot on the soil there. If you are ever caught, you will be put in prison, with little hope of ever getting out!”

“If I am caught, I will be sent directly to
le Razor.
” He was blunt.

She cried out. “I am begging you—I know you are a man of honor and a patriot, but please give up your wartime activities!”

He took her shoulders. “Do not ask the impossible of me, Amelia. And do not change the topic! It is you I am worried about. I saw the way you and Grenville looked at one another before the funeral.”

She froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“He could not look away from you—nor could you look away from him!” Lucas cried.

And now, Amelia knew she flushed. “I think you are mistaken,” she said.

He gave her a disbelieving look. “How did he convince you to become employed by him? Or should I guess? Once a rake, always a rake!”

She slipped free of his grasp. “If you are suggesting that he made advances in order to gain my employment, you are wrong.” She was actually telling the truth, still, she felt as if she were lying. “Grenville is not a rake! You probably do not know that after the funeral, I went to St. Just Hall to help with the children. He was in a ghastly state, Lucas. He was locked in his rooms, instead of caring for his sons. The children needed me desperately then, just as they need me now.”

“Why? Is he still locked in his rooms?”

She tensed. Lucas was rarely angry, and never mocking. “That is hardly fair.”

“Falling for him another time will be unfair, Amelia. He is grieving for his wife,” he warned.

She knew better than to tell him otherwise. And she would ignore his first barb. “There is more. The infant isn’t his daughter. When he asked me to manage his household, he confirmed the gossip I had heard. Lucille was fathered by Thomas Southland. Oh, Lucas!” She went to him and took his hand. “He won’t even look at her, and we don’t know if Southland will ever come for her. That little girl needs me, as well!”

He sighed and put his arm around her. “I have heard the gossip, but I dismissed it.” His stare was searching. “So you are comforting the children—and while caring for them, you have become far too attached, haven’t you?”

“I love those boys,” she whispered. “I love Lucille. Of course I do.”

“And Grenville? Who is comforting him?”

She flushed again. “I will confess, I am also concerned about his welfare, and I am happy to offer him some small comfort, too, if I can.”

“Amelia, we are close. I only have to look at you to know that you remain infatuated with him.”

She choked. How would she deny it?

“Is he treating you with respect?” he demanded fiercely.

And finally, she could be entirely truthful with him. “He is being very respectful, Lucas.”

His eyes widened. He finally said, “I believe you.”

“Good.” She somehow smiled. It was shaky. “We are being very careful not to let the past affect the present. We are trying very hard to maintain the roles we have taken as housekeeper and employer.”

His gaze narrowed. “Does that mean you have discussed your past affair?”

She did not want to lie. “Of course we have. I never said that this situation isn’t somewhat awkward. But his children come first—we are agreed upon that.”

He sighed. “You sound so controlled, Amelia, and so sensible—which is what I would expect of you in any other circumstance. I actually like Grenville. I respect him. But right now, my instinct tells me not to trust him—not where you are concerned.”

Would she ever stop blushing? How could Lucas be so astute?

He grimaced. “And the worst part is that I know you so well. You may be a grown woman, inordinately sensible most of the time, but I also know that you remain as naive as you once were. And no one is as loyal. Compassion can be misleading. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you have no genuine feelings for him? That you are merely his housekeeper?”

She wrung her hands. She finally said, “Of course I still care, Lucas. I am not a shallow woman, to give her heart away briefly and then to selfishly take it back.”

“Then I am afraid for you.”

“Don’t be. I am a strong woman and I am not a fool. I took up this position to help his children.”

“But you are also helping him.”

She met his gaze and nodded. “Yes. But before you berate me another time, have you forgotten how moral I am?”

He hesitated and she suddenly knew he was thinking about how she had forgotten her morals ten years ago. “I know you would never deliberately act in any way that is dishonest or immoral. But you are in an unenviable position, Amelia. It must be impossible to forget the past you shared, being around him all of the time. I am afraid you might secretly dream of a future you cannot have.”

She shook her head, but a terrible pang went through her. “I harbor no illusions.” Even as she spoke, she recalled his kiss last night, and wondering why he did not offer her far more than an affair.

“Good.” He pulled up an ottoman and sat down. “But I continue to have reservations about your being here.”

“I can’t leave those boys or that little girl.” She sat down in a gilded chair.

“Or him?” His gray gaze was searching. When she decided not to answer, he said, “And what if Southland comes?”

“If Southland comes, I will try to be happy for Lucille, because she belongs with her natural father, but it will break my heart.”

He took her hand and clasped it. “I probably should not give you my opinion, but I do not think Southland will come.”

She started, hopeful. “You know him?”

“I ran into him at a weekend party in the north, about a year ago. He is a bachelor and a rogue. Of course, that was some time past, so maybe he has changed.” He shrugged, clearly not believing that.

She was so relieved.

“Amelia, you need children of your own.”

His declaration jerked her attention back to him. Simon had said the very same thing. “You may be right,” she said, very carefully, “but I am nearly middle-aged. And I have a reputation, Lucas, as a committed spinster.”

“If you give me permission, I will work on finding you a serious match.”

She froze, and all she could think of was Simon. Suddenly, almost every memory she had raced wildly through her mind.

“Amelia?”

She somehow forced Simon’s dark image away. Should she try to find a suitor? Oh, the position she was in was so untenable. She would love to have children of her own. But Simon and his children needed her. “I will have to think about it.” Partly to change the subject, but mostly out of concern, she said, “Have you seen Jack recently?”

The last time she had seen Jack had been in February, when he had appeared briefly at the manor, lingering only for two days. He had not given her any explanations; as a smuggler, he was always at sea, on the run or in hiding. She had encouraged him to go to London to see Julianne, who had recently eloped. He had said he would do his best. But Julianne had seen him exactly once, in early March. He hadn’t seen his newborn niece yet.

Lucas looked away. “Yes, I have. I saw him a few weeks ago.”

“I am becoming worried about him.” She lowered her voice. “Is he still running the blockade?”

“From time to time, when it suits him.” Lucas did not seem very pleased.

“He never comes home. He hasn’t seen Jaquelyn yet. That is not like Jack. As reckless as he is, as much as he loves the sea—” and he loved the challenge of outwitting the British navy even more “—he is a family man, in his own way. He adores Julianne.”

“Like you, Jack is in one piece. If he is lucky, he will survive the war. I think the less you know, the better,” Lucas said. “Why don’t we leave it at the fact that he remains a free man?”

“You should stop him from running the blockade.”

“I’ve tried. You know our brother. He thrives on danger and he thinks he is immortal.”

“I miss him. I am hoping he will come to town. If he does, make certain he calls on me.”

Lucas hesitated. He leaned close. “He won’t come to town, Amelia. It’s too dangerous.” When she stared in confusion, he said reluctantly, “There is a bounty on his head.”

It took her a moment to comprehend Lucas. She cried out. “The authorities have put out a warrant for his arrest?”

“It is even worse than that. There is a movement under way to suspend the writ of habeus corpus. If Pitt succeeds in getting such a suspension made into law and Jack is ever apprehended, he might never again see the light of day.”

Amelia leaped to her feet. “Such a law will never pass! It is a basic freedom, Lucas, a basic right to know what you are being accused of. Such a suspension would mean that almost anyone could be thrown in prison, for any reason, without ever being charged!”

“Yes, that is exactly what would happen. And we would not be very different from France, then, would we?” He also stood. “Except Jack is wanted for treason. That is a hanging offense.”

She took his arm. “You are connected. Warlock is connected. Why can’t you have the bounty removed?” If Jack were caught, he could hang!

“Warlock has said he would help Jack—but only if Jack helps him.”