Persuasion (22 page)

“Momma certainly likes town. Garrett takes her for a drive about the best neighborhoods or through the park every day.” She hesitated. “Both of my brothers are well.” She decided not to elaborate.

“And Grenville? I imagine he is grieving for the loss of his wife. You are brave, Amelia, to have taken on such a situation.”

“This is a difficult time,” she said, aware that they were moving on to dangerous terrain.

“He must appreciate your efforts on his behalf and that of his family,” Tom mused. “Do you bake the children those corn muffins you used to make?”

“There is a cook, and I have not given him the recipe yet.” She was becoming uneasy.

“Then you should give it to him. His boys will adore you for it.”

Suddenly she could not take the casual conversation for another moment. “Why have you called? Is there something I can do for you?”

“We are neighbors, in a way. I wanted to make certain you were getting on. They do say Grenville is rather difficult. Don’t they?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said tersely.

“Well, Amelia, everyone knows he was estranged from his wife. I have even heard that he walks in his sleep. Have you caught him out and about at odd hours—acting strangely?” He laughed, as if amused and merely gossiping.

Her heart lurched with alarm. She was certain he was questioning her seriously now. “Of course not.” She was suddenly angry. “Are you still radically inclined, Tom?”

His eyes widened, but his smile never wavered. “I am not unprincipled, Amelia. I hardly change my spots, as did Julianne.”

No attack could have been as obvious. “Julianne is very principled. She believes in liberty for all mankind—not just for the poor and the oppressed.”

“Since when have you become political?”

She ignored that. “I take it you support France, even though she is at war with our country?”

“I take it you have become a royalist—like your sister?” He wasn’t smiling now. “I can imagine the discussions you and Grenville have.... If there are discussions?”

She gasped. “What does that mean?”

“I was there ten years ago, Amelia, in case you have forgotten? Julianne and I were friends when you were being courted by Grenville.”

She was shaken. She had forgotten! “I do not know why you are bringing such a subject up. It is very ungentlemanly of you.”

“Ah, so where there is smoke, there is fire.”

“What does that mean?” she cried.

“Have you ever met Henri Jourdan?” he asked, unsmiling.

She did not have a clue as to who he was talking about. But she sensed she must be very careful about how she answered him. “I have been gracious enough to overlook your falling-out with my sister. But you have come into my house in a very provocative manner. I have no interest in continuing this intercourse. Good day, Tom.”

“Jourdan has called on St. Just, surely?”

“Good day.” Amelia strode to the door and flung it open, shaken but hiding it. “Lloyd! Please escort Mr. Treyton out.” She faced Tom. “Please, do not make me bar you from this house.”

Tom smirked. “And why would you do that?” He saluted then, sauntering past her. “I think I can let myself out.”

Amelia stared after him as Lloyd appeared, following Treyton to the door. Only when the door had closed behind Treyton did she grasp her hands and sink into the closest chair.

What had that encounter been about?

Who was Henri Jourdan?

But she had to trust her instincts now. Tom was the enemy, and somehow he was hunting Simon.

* * *

I
T
WAS
VERY
LATE
,
and Simon had yet to return.

In his library, Amelia paced. That afternoon, he had sent a note, stating that he would not be back in time for supper, and that he might not be back to say good-night to the boys, either. There had been no explanation, and the boys had been put to bed hours ago.

She had made up her mind to spy upon him, if that was what it took to discover the truth about his activities. But she was loath to begin searching through his private effects. It felt like a violation of her morals, as well as a violation of his privacy. Still, in the past hour, she had gone through all the drawers in his desk. She hadn’t found anything alarming—except for the fact that the pistol was gone.

He had left the house before noon. Why did he think it necessary to go out in broad daylight with a loaded gun?

When he returned, Amelia meant to confront him until she got to the truth.

But her fear and worry were exhausting her. She suddenly sat down at his desk, slumping over the leather top there.

“So you are waiting up for me, again?”

She flinched, leaping to her feet. Simon stood in the doorway in his navy blue coat, smiling slightly at her.

She trembled. “Yes, I am waiting up for you.”

His gaze moved over her figure. The trunk she had seen in the front hall had been for her. It was filled with clothing her sister had purchased for her. She had decided earlier that she might as well surrender to her sister’s will and see what she had actually bought for her, as she was tired of looking like a washerwoman or a domestic housemaid. Amelia had changed into a rose brocade dress with a heart-shaped neckline and three-quarter sleeves. He looked up. “This is a pleasant surprise, Amelia.... I like the gown.”

There was no mistaking the admiring look in his eyes. But surely she hadn’t put on one of the gowns Julianne had sent on his behalf? “Julianne left me a small wardrobe.” She felt herself blushing. “I was tired of looking like a washerwoman.”

His smile was broader now, his tone softer. “You could never look like a washerwoman. You are lovely,” he said.

She was gripping the edge of his desk. “Thank you,” she said unevenly. “Are you attempting to divert me?”

“Do you need diversion?” He finally moved into the room, leaving the door open. “I can’t imagine why you are here, much less why you are at my desk, but somehow I do not think I am forgiven for my wanton behavior the other night.”

She wet her lips. “There was no wanton behavior.” He started and she said, “We both know you did not go out last night to be with a lover.”

“I am not going to argue with you. But if you wish to believe in me, you are making a mistake.” But he had halted a few feet from the desk, and he appeared distinctly wary.

“You must be in terrible danger, to tell such a lie.”

“Has something happened today that I don’t know about?” He spoke calmly. “Last night, you certainly believed my confession—and it was the truth, by the way.”

She decided not to go through the logic which had led her to her conclusions. “I was threatened today—here in this house.”

Simon’s eyes widened. “What!”

“I was threatened by a radical, Simon, and he was clearly interested in you.”

Simon’s mouth closed but he blanched. And he came forward with hard strides. Amelia did not move; he rounded the desk and seized her wrist. “What happened?”

“Do you remember Tom Treyton?”

“The name is somewhat familiar—”

She interrupted. “His father is a country squire. He is a solicitor with a practice in Penzance. He was also a friend of Julianne’s, and of my family’s. I know firsthand from Julianne that he has been here in London, trying to subvert the war effort. Last summer he was arrested, and Julianne feared he would be charged with treason. She persuaded Bedford to work on his behalf and he was released. He called on me this afternoon. But it was you he wished to speak about.”

“What did he want to know?”

“He asked me if I knew someone named Henri Jourdan,” she said.

Simon blanched.

“I am becoming frightened,” Amelia cried. “Simon, who is Jourdan? What are you really doing here in town? What were you doing last night?”

He inhaled harshly. “What did you say, Amelia? What did you tell him?”

“I did not even answer him, I sent him from the house!”

Their gazes locked and she saw fear in Simon’s eyes. “If you are ever asked again, Jourdan is my cousin. He resides here from time to time, but is currently out of town!” He turned away from her and paced.

She ran after him and seized his arm. He faced her. “If I must lie for you, I will gladly do so, but don’t I have the right to know what is going on?”

“I would tell you everything if I could,” he cried raggedly. He grasped her shoulders. “I should have never brought you to London!”

“I want to be here! I love William and John—I love Lucille—they need me!” She felt the tears filling her eyes. She almost blurted, I love you—and you need me, too! “Are we in danger, Simon?”

His grip tightened. “I am determined to keep you safe. I am determined to keep the children safe. I am doing my best....” He trailed off.

Amelia did not know what to do. He was obviously overcome with anguish. “I am good at keeping secrets.” She clasped his cheek, which was slightly rough.

His gaze locked with hers. “You do not need to be burdened with my secrets, Amelia, and you may trust me on that.”

She could not understand why he wouldn’t tell her what he was dealing with. “Are you involved in the war? Perhaps the way Lucas is, perhaps the way Bedford was?”

He began shaking his head. “From now on, Garrett will escort you everywhere you go, even into my own gardens!”

“Who is Jourdan?” she tried again.

“He is my cousin, from France,” he said firmly, but he hesitated before answering.

She was surprised. “You have French relations?”

He wet his lip. “Most are dead.”

She studied him desperately. “Will we be receiving him?”

“Amelia, do not press me! Damn it! I cannot answer any questions. But know this. I am going to keep you safe,” he said huskily.

His eyes were shimmering with tears. He added, “I am going to keep the children safe—even Lucille, for as long as she is with us.”

Her heart swelled with love. “I know.” She clasped his jaw again.

And he took her hand and turned it over and kissed it with shocking passion. And then he kissed it again, and again. “What would I do without you? What would I do without your faith? How can you trust me?” He paused and stared into her eyes. “I did lie, Amelia. There was no one else last night. How could there be anyone else—when it is you that I want, you whom I admire?”

Relief consumed her—and desire flamed. “I know. Simon... I will always trust you. It is as natural to me as breathing.”

He cried out. And then he swept her hard into his arms, and she turned her face up for his kiss. It was fierce and hungry, it was consuming. As wildly, Amelia kissed him back.

It was Simon who broke away, after an endless, heated moment. “I am not going to be able to restrain myself,” he said harshly, “not now, not tonight.”

“And I will not let you,” Amelia cried. “I am too frightened—and I care for you too much.”

He went still, breathing hard. For one moment, Amelia was afraid that she had said the wrong thing. But then he pulled her into his arms, kissing her and whirling her around toward the sofa as he did so. Without breaking the kiss, he shoved the library door closed. Amelia clung as he laid her down on the sofa.

He paused beside her, one knee on the sofa. “You deserve more than I can give you.”

“I want whatever you can give me.” Amelia took his hand and slid it over her bare collarbone.

His eyes blazed. “Amelia, I have already hurt you, and if there will be regrets—”

“There will not be regrets.” And as she spoke, she opened his shirt, exposing his hard chest and muscular belly.

Her dress already unbuttoned, he froze, their gazes locked. Amelia laid her palm on his ribs, and gave up. She closed her eyes, tears of need arising, moaning as she slid her hand across his abdomen and down his pelvis. His skin was like velvet, except it was burning hot.

He claimed her lips feverishly as she delved even lower, and when she touched him, feeling his hard, hot length, the urgency became unbearable. She cried out, soblike.

Simon gasped and jerked down her bodice, his mouth on her neck, her breasts. Frantically Amelia ripped off his jacket, then helped him tear down his breeches. Her skirts were somehow up about her waist and Simon smiled at her, his eyes burning and black. She wanted to tell him to hurry. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. Instead, staring into his eyes, very faint now, she reached down between them and guided him toward her. He gasped and then he was abruptly filling her....

Amelia threw her arms around him and wept.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A
MELIA
THOUGHT
SHE
FELT
Simon brush his mouth over her temple. She was surely dreaming, wasn’t she? Confusion began as she slowly awoke. And suddenly she realized that she was in his arms—and that they were in bed. The mattress shifted as he got up.

She was instantly awake. Last night they had made love, over and over again.

A delirious joy began. Amelia blinked, because they were in her bedroom, and it was still dark outside. Simon was gathering up his clothes and dressing.

She remembered making love on the sofa in the library, their passion finally exploding. It had been breathtaking and miraculous, at once. Nothing in her life had ever felt as right.

They had stolen upstairs afterward, into her bedroom. They had made love again—and again. Each time had been fierce, frantic and thrilling.

She gripped the covers, consumed with the depth of her love. She had never loved anyone this way before, she thought helplessly. She knew she had never stopped loving Simon—nor would she ever do so. Yet with the profound joy there was despair.

He was in trouble. Her suspicions had been right, apparently, but he hadn’t admitted anything! The only thing she knew with any certainty was that he was afraid, and that he felt it necessary to keep her and the children safe. But what or who were they in danger from?

“Simon?” she whispered as his clothing rustled.

He sat down on the side of the bed, touching her face, his shirt half buttoned. “I did not want to awaken you. Good morning.” He smiled.

Her heart turned over, hard. His smile was so tender, so caring—and she recalled his intense and heated looks last night. “It’s all right. Are you trying to sneak away?” she asked, with some uncertainty, but trying to sound casual. Surely he did not mean to steal away from her, not after the extent of his passion last night!

His eyes widened. “Yes, I am intent on stealing from your chamber—but not because I want to leave you. I am trying to protect you. I don’t want anyone to know that we have spent the night together. I do not want your reputation blemished.”

She couldn’t believe that she had had some doubt. But uncertainty remained. “I thought you might have wanted to escape me.”

“Why would I want to flee from you?” And he seemed genuinely bewildered.

“Because you are ashamed, because you feel guilty, because you have regrets... ” she said.

For one moment, he stared. Then he said softly, “Are you ashamed? Do you have regrets?”

“I know we had decided not to allow this to happen, but I cannot regret the night we just shared. It was the best night of my life.”

His eyes darkened. “Do you really mean it?”

“I mean it!” she cried.

He leaned closer and slid his hand into her hair, around her nape. “What happened last night means more to me than you can possibly know.” His tone was rough with emotion. “I just wish—” He stopped.

The love in her chest swelled. She touched his face. “What do you wish? Do you have regrets?” He hadn’t answered her and she was acutely aware of it.

“Yes, I do.” Their gazes held. “You deserve more than this. We both know you are not meant to be a mistress. You deserve a home and family of your own, not a clandestine affair. I hired you as my housekeeper, but now you are in my bed!” Before she could protest, he said, “You deserve all the splendor life has to offer. Instead, I have immersed you in the most sordid aspects of my life, Amelia. I swore to myself I would never do such a thing, yet that is exactly what I have accomplished.”

She did not quite understand him. And she was dismayed. “So you are sorry about what happened?”

“I am not sorry that we made love,” he said. He hesitated. “But I regret ruining you, Amelia, for that is what I have done.”

He had taken her virginity, and he didn’t seem about to offer marriage. She wasn’t sure what to think, feel or say. And it wasn’t quite true, but she said, “I am twenty-six. I haven’t thought about marriage in years. I do not care that we are lovers, and not man and wife. I care about you, Simon, obviously. Therefore I want to be involved in your life, both when times are good and when times are difficult.”

He stared for a long moment. “I remain amazed by your loyalty, Amelia, for I have done nothing to deserve it. Why? Why are you so moved to help me?”

She could not tell him that she loved him. “We have a connection,” she said softly.

“Yes, we do. We had it ten years ago, and apparently time has not eroded it.” But he did not smile.

And Amelia felt as uncertain as she had once been, when she had been a girl of sixteen. “I am not sure the passage of time will ever affect it.”

“I am a selfish bastard, aren’t I? I feel as if I am using you. And I certainly know better.” He suddenly pulled her into his arms and held her, hard.

It was an outburst of affection, Amelia realized as she embraced him in return. But she did not understand why he didn’t offer her marriage. Surely he cared for her. He had said he needed her. His children needed a mother. And he was a widower—so what was holding him back?

She realized she was afraid that he simply didn’t want to marry her. Worse, it was now obvious that she wanted even more than an affair from him. As he had pointed out, she was hardly meant to be a mistress.

“I had better go,” he suddenly said softly. “It will be five soon, and the staff will begin to arise.”

“I am the only one up before six,” she said, suddenly bewildered and even hurt. But consuming love remained. She knew it would never fade—not for her.

He kissed her cheek and stood. “We can speak later. Amelia... If you decide you have regrets, you must be brave and tell me.”

Amelia somehow smiled, hugging the covers to her chest, and watched him leave. Then she leaned back against the pillows. She was so deeply in love, but the confusion remained. She was suddenly afraid that she would not be very adept in the role of mistress. She was suddenly afraid of being hurt by Simon all over again.

But she did not want to lose him. Wasn’t this better than nothing?

Besides, he was in danger—and apparently the children were in danger, too. She would not back out of their friendship, and she did not want to end their love affair, either. In fact, she missed him already!

And she suddenly threw the covers aside. She knew she would never fall back asleep. She would begin her day early.

* * *

A
MELIA
WONDERED
IF
SHE
would be able to stop thinking about the night she had just shared with Simon as she went downstairs, a half an hour later. Aware that no one would be up yet—except for Simon—she glanced at the library as she entered the central hall. The door remained open and she smiled, recalling how they had escaped that room last night, having barely reconstructed their clothing, and pretending that naught was amiss. They had sauntered from the room slowly, then made a mad dash for the stairs. Choking on laughter, they had rushed up to her room.

The library was empty—apparently Simon was still upstairs—and impulsively, she went inside to tidy up the sofa where they had first made love.

As she rearranged the pillows, joy overcoming her previous doubts, there was a flash of movement outside. Amelia glanced up at the window. The sun had risen, and the morning was bright with its first light. Roses were blooming. And then she realized that a man was standing outside of the window!

Amelia froze in fear—and then she ran to Simon’s desk, seizing the drawer where he kept the gun. She pulled it open, took the pistol and turned. As she raised it, the man pressed his face to the window.

She choked in shock.

Amelia,
he mouthed.

It was Jack, her long-lost brother!

Jack, who had a bounty on his head.

Amelia pointed toward the west wing of the house, and ran from the library. She pushed open the doors to the first salon—the opulent red-and-gold room—and then closed them. She realized she was still holding Simon’s pistol as she raced across the salon and opened the terrace doors. Jack rushed inside, grinning at her.

Before she could reprimand him, he reached for her. He plucked the pistol from her hand and swept her into a hard embrace and whirled her around until she was breathless.

“The gun is loaded,” she choked, afraid it would go off.

He laughed with disdain and set her down, putting the gun on a small table. “Since when do you carry weapons?”

She stared at her brother, who looked like the smuggler he was—or a pirate. His face was bronzed from the wind and the sea, he wore a plain brown coat over a lawn shirt that was open to the chest, his golden hair was loose, and he wore Hessian boots with his breeches, not shoes and stockings. He also wore a waist belt with a pouch and holster, in which she could clearly see a carbine pistol. “Since when do you?” she cried.

“Aren’t you pleased to see me?” He grinned. And before she could respond, one tawny brow lifted. “Hmm, you do not look like a housekeeper, or, come to think of it, like my sensible older sister.”

Amelia felt herself blush. She was dressed in a lovely pale pink silk gown, in a rose print, which was hardly suitable for a housekeeper. She had pinned up half of her hair. The rest she had brushed and was hanging loose. Worse, she happened to know that she looked particularly radiant today. Simon, of course, was responsible for that.

Jack was an unrepentant ladies’ man and she was afraid he would suspect what she had been up to last night. “I am thrilled to see you and you know it,” she said. “Lucas told me about the bounty, Jack.”

He did not seem perturbed. “Do not lecture me now. Why are you all dressed up at five in the morning?”

“Julianne sent me the clothes. Frankly, I have been working myself to the bone, taking care of Grenville’s poor children. I became tired of seeing my reflection in the mirror and looking like a fishmonger’s wife.”

“And how are Grenville’s children, Amelia? Come to think of it, how is Grenville?”

She tensed. “Lucas and I have already had this out. He has come to terms with my taking on the position as Grenville’s housekeeper. His children have lost their mother, Jack. And the infant, Lucille, why, she isn’t even his child, so she currently has no one.”

“She has you.”

“Yes, she does.”

He sighed. “I got into town last night. Lucas has told me everything—including that you are very involved in Grenville’s household. Amelia, I have not forgotten that he broke your heart, even if it was many years ago. I remember hearing you crying in your bedchamber. I remember wanting to hunt him down and kill him! I was shocked when Lucas told me that you were his housekeeper. And now, well, I can’t help remarking that you have never looked better—or lovelier.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “It is the dress!”

He stared searchingly.

She folded her arms defensively. She had pulled the wool over Lucas’s eyes, but Jack would be harder to fool. “Have you seen Jaquelyn yet?” she asked, referring to Julianne’s daughter.

“You are changing the subject. Where is Grenville, anyway? As much as I shouldn’t let him see me, I want to have a word with him.”

She was alarmed. Jack had a temper. He had meant it when he had just stated that, a decade ago, he had wanted to kill Simon. He would not be calm and rational in this regard as Lucas had been, she was certain. “He is probably asleep. I do not think it wise for me to wake him up.”

His eyes widened. “My God, were you even considering doing such a thing? Of course you can’t barge in on him—or can you? What is going on here, anyway?”

He was suspicious of her relationship, she realized, with some panic. “You are wrong. I was not even thinking of going upstairs to awaken him. It would be entirely inappropriate, obviously.”

“That dress is inappropriate. So is your position as his housekeeper.”

“I told Lucas and I will tell you. I cannot abandon his children now. They are becoming very accustomed to having me run their home. I see to their meals, review their studies and tell them bedtime stories!”

“Really?” He made a mocking sound. “I am going to remain here until Grenville comes downstairs. I wish a word with him.”

“Jack, you cannot afford to have him see you.” Amelia was horrified. Jack meant to interview Simon and decide if their relationship was appropriate or not—she was certain.

“Grenville hardly frightens me, Amelia,” he said, with vast arrogance. “I have been eluding two navies ever since the blockade was declared. I think I can elude Grenville and his cronies, if he ever decided to turn me in!”

“You are lucky, Jack, but I am afraid you don’t know it.”

He eyed her. “Don’t be afraid for me.”

She went to him and touched his arm. “Of course I am afraid for you.” She lowered her voice. “How many times have you been off the French coast, unloading embargoed goods, with the British navy on the horizon? How many times, Jack?”

He stared at her, a funny expression on his face. “I don’t want you to worry about me. I have the oddest feeling you are preoccupied enough now.”

“My God, I was right! You drop anchor to unload, with British sloops almost in striking distance!”

“How amusing would it be if they weren’t on the hunt?”

She felt like striking him, hard. “This is not a frivolous game, damn it. If you are ever apprehended, they will charge you with treason, Jack. I am worried to death about you being caught by our navy, just as I am worried to death about Lucas being caught on French soil, by the French authorities!”

Jack suddenly pulled her close. “And I love you, too.” He released her. “Frankly, I worry about Lucas, as well. He should stop aiding the émigrés, Amelia. Terror truly reigns in France. There is no concept of mercy now, or of justice. Anyone even associated with a suspected traitor is sent to the guillotine, and that means women and children are dying senselessly, every single day. If Lucas is caught on French soil, there will not be a trial. His fate will be the mob or the Blade.”

She was sickened. “I was not certain he was still working with émigrés in France.”