The Gamekeeper's Lady (24 page)

She went inside and shut the door.

She stood rigid and shaking on the other side. No tears. No sobbing. He mustn’t guess how much she was wounded.

After a moment or two, she heard the outside door close.

He’d be glad she refused him. Later.

He’d be thankful for his escape.

She sank down on to the bed and buried her face in the pillow and sobbed.

She didn’t want him.

Furious, Robert slammed out of the parlour. He’d offered her his name and she’d given him his
congé.

Now he knew how all those women in his life had felt.

God damn, it hurt.

He tore down the stairs in fury.

Why wouldn’t she let him put things right? She’d talked of wanting other men and thrown him out. His body shook. His heart raged. His fists opened and closed. Wanting to strangle her. To make her listen to reason.

He needed a drink. Something to take away the turmoil in his head.

On his way to the taproom, he collided with Snively. He glared at him and pushed by.

Snively grabbed his sleeve. ‘You been up there upsetting her again?’

‘Hardly,’ Robert said. ‘She doesn’t give a tinker’s cuss for me.’

‘Hoity-toity bugger. Up in the boughs, are we?’

Robert brushed him off. ‘You’ve no idea what you are talking about.’

‘I know she looks like she lost half a crown and found a penny.’

Robert paused.

‘She ain’t eating much either.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘She’s miserable when she should be as happy as a grig.’

‘What has that to do with me?’

Snively shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. You’re the man who understands women.’

‘Understand them? No one understands them.’

‘Maybe not. Can I buy you a drink?’ Snively walked to the bar, pulled out a pipe and shoved it between his teeth. ‘I’d have a little think before you acts with haste.’

‘Think about what? I asked her to marry me. She turned me down.’

‘Happen you’re right. Though I never saw her look so down as when you left the lawyer’s office. Went down on your knees did you? Begged for forgiveness after what you said?’ The older man looked at him sideways and sighed. ‘Too high in the instep for that, I reckon. You a duke’s son and all and her nothing but a base-born child.’

Robert slammed his fist on the bar. Tankards jumped and rattled. ‘That has nothing to do with anything. I offered her my name.’

‘Not good enough, my lord.’ Snively shook his grey head.

‘Drink, sir?’ asked the barman, wiping at the bar in front of Robert with a rag.

‘Brandy,’ Robert said. ‘For two.’

The barman poured and moved away. Robert downed his drink in one gulp. It didn’t make him feel one iota better. ‘What do you suggest, then?’

Snively’s eyes twinkled. ‘If you don’t know, I’m sure I don’t.’

Robert’s fingers curled around his glass. He wished the slender stem was Snively’s neck. ‘Fat lot of help you are.’

‘All right. Why do you want to marry her?’

‘Because it’s the right thing to do.’

‘Empty words.’ The old man turned away. ‘You don’t deserve her. Bugger off.’

He picked up his glass and wandered to the settle by the hearth where he picked up a discarded newspaper and proceeded to immerse himself in its pages.

Robert signalled for another brandy and when it came he stared into its depths. Why else would he want to marry her? He liked her. He felt good when he was with her. Hell, he felt terrible when she wasn’t around.

It was as if they were joined by an invisible thread attached to his heart and the further it was stretched, the more painfully tight it became. Was that what people called love?

He raised the glass to his lips. Then put it down.

Love was romantic nonsense.

Wasn’t it?

What had Mother said—pride and love make bad bedfellows? Was that his problem? Was he too proud?

Or did he fear she’d reject his love, the way Father had?

Which meant taking a terrible risk.

What if he couldn’t have her any other way? What if she met some handsome Italian count and fell into bed with him? Or worse, married him?

She had said she loved him.

How could he offer her anything less?

And if she turned him down again?

At least he’d be able to look at his face in the mirror and not be disgusted by his cowardice.

He glanced over at Snively, who had finished his drink and was now dozing with the newspaper over his face. No help there.

He climbed back up the stairs and let himself in quietly.

The remains of her supper still lay on the table beside the window. She hadn’t eaten more than a mouthful or two. The sight gave him heart. Perhaps Snively was right. She wasn’t happy.

Silently, he tried her bedroom door. Locked. He knocked.

‘I’m finished with the supper dishes,’ she called out. ‘You can take them away.’

Her voice sounded thick and damp as if she’d been crying. A good sign? The tightness in his chest said not.

‘I’ve not come for the dishes,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to make a confession.’

Silence.

‘Frederica, there is one more thing I need to say.’

Frederica stared at the door. When would he stop torturing her? ‘G-go away.’

‘Please, sweetling. It won’t take more than a minute or two.’

Ah, how could she resist the plea in his voice? She wasn’t going to change her mind, though. Whatever he said. Not even if he tied her up and stood her in front of the altar. All she had to do was remain calm. Strong. In control.

She ran to the mirror. Her eyes were red, her cheeks blotchy. She dipped a cloth in the ewer and dabbed at her tear-streaked face.

He tapped on the door. ‘Frederica.’

‘A moment if you please.’

A quick smooth of her gown, an extra pin in her hair. She looked in the mirror and shook her head. He’d know she’d been crying. She fixed a cool smile on her face and opened the door.

He stood a little back from the door, dark, aloof, his face grim. Much as she’d seen him that first day by the river, except in his fine clothes he looked every inch the duke’s second son. Generations of knights lived in his bearing.

Inside, she began to shake.

Did he now hope to force his will on her? The way her uncle had intended with her cousin?

She kept her face calm, politely interested. ‘Lord Robert, back so soon? I really cannot think of anything else that needs to be said.’

‘There is one thing.’ His voice was deep and dark and her insides quivered at the sound; her wicked body yearned for his touch.

‘I’ll hear no more talk of duty and honour. I have neither. Please close the door on the way out.’

She went to the sofa and gazed into the fire’s depths, waiting for the slam of the door.

Instead, she heard his step across the floor as he drew near. She held herself rigid, ready to resist a seduction if necessary, primed herself to be deaf to his words.

A faint rustle and a small thud sounded behind her.

She couldn’t stop herself—she turned to look.

He was on one knee, his head bowed, so that all she could see of him was dark waves of hair and the breadth of his shoulders.

She started to rise.

‘Lady, grant me one boon,’ he said softly. ‘Hear me out.’

She sank back on the seat, too amazed to do more than stare at his lowered head.

‘I am sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I came to you in pride. Now I come to you in humility.’

‘R-Robert, no,’ she whispered. Never had she wanted this proud man to abase himself before her. ‘P-please, get up.’

He didn’t move, didn’t raise his head, didn’t look at her, but knelt before her like some knight of old before his liege, humbled, penitent.

She couldn’t breathe the sight pained her so much.

‘You said my offer wasn’t enough. I thought you meant I wasn’t good enough. It hurt. My pride was hurt. But far worse was the sense of loss deep in my soul. Only when I realised that I stood to lose you forever did I realise my greatest wrong. I offered so little of myself in return for the priceless gift you bring to my heart.’

‘Oh, R-Robert,’ she breathed, unable to believe what she was hearing.

He looked up then and the humility and love shining in his eyes almost sent her to pieces.

She reached out.

He took her hand, kissed the back of it with gentle reverence. ‘It was family pride that kept your parents apart and pride that set me adrift from my family’s love.’

He looked up and gazed into her face. He looked beautiful and sad. ‘Today I walked away too proud to beg for what I needed. I let pride speak instead of saying what was in my heart. Can you forgive me, Frederica, for being such an arrogant fool? If you can, I beg that I may spend the rest of my life trying to win your love. I will abide by your wishes. If you send me away, I will never trouble you more. But I want you to know, I love you with all my heart.’

These were the words she had longed to hear. And the truth shone in his eyes and rang in his voice.

Her heart swelled with joy. And yet how could she let him make such a sacrifice? By marrying her he would be giving up his place in society, possibly in his family, if what she knew of the duke was half true.

She had turned him away because he spoke only of duty; now he spoke of love, but she still wasn’t convinced it was right. She loved him too well to ruin his life.

She was a bastard. Illegitimate. Unwanted. He was the son of a duke.

She would bring him nothing but shame.

Frederica slid off the seat onto her knees and cupped his cheeks in her hands, felt the warmth of his skin and the faint haze of stubble, inhaled the scent of his cologne. ‘Don’t do this.’

‘Ah, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘If you won’t have me as your husband, I’ll come as your servant. You can pay me to carry your bags, arrange for your carriage, keep the damned
banditti
at bay.’

‘You would do that for me?’

‘I would do that and more to remain at your side. To protect you when asked. To serve when needed.’

Tears blocked her throat and burned the backs of her eyes. ‘And will you bring me chocolate in bed in the morning?’ she whispered huskily.

‘I will.’ He smiled. ‘As long as I get to lie beside you as you drink it.’

‘Oh, R-Robert, are you sure this is what you want? I will never be entirely respectable, you know.’

‘As sure as I am of needing my next breath to live. I

love you, elf. Without you, I’m a shell. An empty husk. It took a while to get it through my thick skull, but without you, I might as well not breathe. You are my life.’

She pressed her lips to his, and his arms came around her. ‘Marry me,’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘Please.’

‘Yes, R-Robert. I will.’

He cradled her nape and she dissolved against his lips and his hard body.

‘Here? Or in Italy?’ she asked.

‘Wherever your heart desires, my love,’ he answered and then couldn’t help a soft chuckle, ‘though I am sure my mother will never forgive me if I don’t let her welcome her new daughter-in-law properly. And I would like you to meet my twin.’

‘Then England it is. I find I like your mother very much. I’ll let Snively know.’

‘Later.’

Then there was no more talking because his lips devoured hers and ecstasy carried all thought away.

Three days later, Robert stood on the steps of St George’s in Hanover Square with his wife of five minutes and gazed at the crowds madly cheering him and his bride. It was a cold January day, but inside he felt warm.

When he’d told his parents of his wedding plans, he hadn’t expected such an elaborate affair, but ducal pride required they celebrate in grand style.

It was right. Frederica deserved the homage.

He raised her small hand to his lips. ‘Happy?’ he asked, smiling down at her glowing face.

‘Never more so,’ she answered.

A figure pushed through the crowds and up the steps. Two days’ growth of beard shadowed his jaw, his coat was rumpled, his neckcloth limp. He had his gazed fixed on Robert’s face.

Charlie. Late. Which really wasn’t like him. Their mother had been frantic.

When Charlie reached the top step, he hesitated, then thrust out his hand. ‘Congratulations.’ His expression said he wasn’t sure Robert would take it.

The idiot. He grabbed the large hand and pulled his brother close, slapping him on the back. ‘Glad you made it.’ His voice sounded thick and husky.

His brother pulled away and cleared his throat. ‘I would have been here sooner, but my horse threw a shoe. Had to walk miles for a replacement.’

‘A fine tale,’ Father said, coming up behind them.

Charlie shook his hand. ‘It is true.’

‘Better late than never,’ Robert said with a sympathetic grin at his brother.

Charlie glanced towards Frederica.

‘Let me introduce my wife. Darling, this is my brother Charles.’

Frederica’s eyes widened. Her gaze ran over Charlie and she smiled. ‘You are even more alike than your p-portrait suggests. I would like to paint you some time. You’d make a wonderful Zeus.’

A growl rose in Robert’s throat.

She laughed. ‘Draped in a sheet, R-Robert.’

He grinned and pressed a kiss to her wrist. ‘Fully clothed.’

Charlie’s eyes goggled.

‘Family joke,’ Robert said.

‘Who would have thought
you
would ever marry?’ Charlie said. His cheeks turned red.

‘I did,’ Mother said. ‘Welcome, my son.’

Charlie enfolded her in a bear hug. In the next moment they were surrounded by the rest of the Mountford clan. His chattering sisters, who’d been bridesmaids, his youngest brother, whose voice gave no sign of breaking for all that he already topped Robert’s chin in height.

It was a good feeling. And Frederica looked thoroughly at home and happy. As she deserved.

The bridal carriage rolled up to the steps.

‘I’ll see you back at Mountford House,’ Charlie said.

‘’Fraid not. We’ve a ship to catch.’

‘To Italy,’ Frederica said.

Charlie looked worried. ‘I need to ask your opinion.’

‘Whatever it is, Charlie,’ Robert said, ‘you’ll have to deal with it yourself