The Earl's Runaway Bride Read online

  The orchestra was striking up again as they moved to the side of the room and he took his partner to a less crowded spot near the wall. A nod at a hovering footman provided two glasses of wine; in the dim light it appeared as black as the panels of her gown.

  There was a sensuous pleasure in watching her take a sip from her glass. A ripple of excitement pulsed through him when the tip of her tongue slid across her lip. She was temptation indeed. He moved closer until the skirts of her gown brushed his legs.

  ‘So, madam, will you stay with me for the rest of the evening?’

  A warm sense of satisfaction spread through Felicity. She looked up at Nathan, noting the way his dark eyes glittered through the slits of his mask. He wanted her! Or, rather, he wanted the beautiful, entrancing creature she had become. Felicity had no illusions; people behaved differently as soon as they put on a mask. She had experienced it herself. As soon as she walked into the ballroom she had been aware of the admiring glances, and safely disguised beneath the mask and the beautiful scarlet-and-black gown, her nerves had disappeared. She was not herself, but an enchantress, powerful and alluring, capable of seducing any man in the room. It was a role she was happy to play, if it kept Nathan by her side. She smiled up at him.

  ‘If you so wish, my lord.’

  ‘I do wish,’ he said softly. ‘I wish it very much indeed.’

  Slowly he lowered his head and touched his lips against hers. Felicity trembled but did not recoil. She tasted the wine on his lips, breathed in the subtle spicy fragrance that hung around him and knew a momentary desolation when he raised his head. He gave her a reassuring smile and turned to watch the dancers. She stood beside him, observing the little smile hovering around his mouth, wondering if she dare reach up and plant a kiss on his lean cheek. She desperately wanted to be close to him, to feel his arms around her. She realised with a shock that she wanted him to make love to her.

  It is the wine, she told herself fiercely. It is making you reckless. You must be careful. A little devil in her head mocked at her caution. This may be your only chance, it taunted her. Take it!

  As if aware of her scrutiny Nathan turned and looked down at her. He put down his glass and held out his hand. ‘We should dance again, I think.’

  Nathan was entranced: the woman had intoxicated him. He was aware of the envious glances of the other men and the glares of the ladies, but only for a moment, for he found he wanted nothing more than to look at his partner, to watch her eyes glint with laughter when he said something to amuse her, to admire the slender column of her throat, the white, smooth skin of her shoulders and the soft, rounded breasts that nestled in the lace of her bodice. A flurry of activity near the door indicated the arrival of the Prince Regent’s party, but Nathan took no notice. He only had eyes for the temptress beside him.

  They danced and danced again and when she declared herself too warm he led her to one of the open windows and out on to a narrow terrace.

  ‘Here.’ He took the feather fan from her hands and began to wave it gently.

  ‘Thank you, that is much better.’ She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, smiling slightly.

  Nathan looked at her. The ruby necklace glinted in the moonlight, inviting him closer. He reached up one hand to cup her face and slowly brought his mouth down upon the side of her neck. She trembled and slipped her hands over his shoulders, her fingers driving through his hair, holding him close. A tiny, whispering breath escaped her and he lifted his head.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I sighed, merely.’

  ‘You called me Nathan.’

  ‘No. You are mistaken.’

  He looked at her closely. ‘We have met before, I know it.’

  She gave the tiniest shake of her head. ‘In our dreams, perhaps.’

  ‘Now I have it! You were the mysterious lady in the Stinchcombes’ shrubbery. My guardian angel.’

  Her grey eyes glittered and a small dimple appeared at one side of that delicious mouth.

  ‘That is a compliment indeed, my lord.’

  ‘I must know who you are.’

  He reached out towards her mask but she caught his hand, her eyes darkening, suddenly serious.

  ‘No. If you unmask me I shall be obliged to leave. Let us enjoy this one brief moment.’

  ‘But—’

  She put her fingers to his lips saying softly, ‘I am Temptation, nothing more.’

  Her hands cupped his face. Gently she drew him to her until their lips were touching. The first, gentle contact deepened almost immediately into something much more passionate and Nathan gave himself up to the desire that had been building all evening. He gripped her shoulders, his mouth coming down hard upon hers, forcing her lips apart. She responded eagerly, tangling her tongue with his. Again, he revised his opinion of her: this was no shy lady out of her depth. The passion of her response fired him. She was eager for his touch and offered herself with a fierce abandon. He slid one hand around her back while his right hand caressed her neck, his thumb moving lightly along the line of her jaw. She clung to him, her body leaning into his. The blood pounded in his veins. He felt more alive than he had for years. He tore himself away from the delights of her mouth and began to kiss her breasts, desire slamming through him when he heard her moan softly.

  Cry off, before it is too late.

  The warning flashed through Felicity’s head. She had never intended to let it get this far tonight—one dance was all she had hoped for, but the wine and Nathan’s attentions had swept her up into a dream world where nothing else mattered, except being in his arms. The warning cried again in her mind but she ignored it; her body was yearning for Nathan to make love to her as he had done during those brief heady days in Corunna. She was overwhelmed by the white-hot passion cascading through her. She clung to him, giving him back kiss for kiss. She revelled in his touch, gasping as his hand slipped beneath the black lace of her bodice and caressed her breast. A fierce elation filled Felicity—she felt alive, irresistible. Dangerous.

  Nathan raised his head, gazing deep into her eyes. ‘Shall we finish this?’

  She rested her cheek against his coat and heard the rapid beat of his heart beneath his jacket. ‘We should go back into the house,’ she whispered.

  He sighed. ‘I am not ready for this to end.’ His hands tightened around her. ‘Come with me,’ he whispered urgently. ‘Come away with me, now. Tonight.’

  It was tempting. They could run away and continue this idyll—until he discovered her identity, then the questions would begin. There would be accusations, bitterness. Sadly, Felicity shook her head. ‘I cannot.’

  ‘Why? Is there a jealous husband ready to call me out?’

  ‘No, but I cannot leave here with you.’

  Silence stretched between them. Finally, with a little nod Nathan stood back and held out his arm.

  ‘Then shall we go back inside?’

  For a moment he thought he saw a shadow of unhappiness in her eyes and she stared at him as if trying to memorise every detail of his face.

  ‘One last kiss,’ she whispered.

  Nathan obeyed. The heady fragrance of flowers filled his senses. He looked down at the woman in his arms. ‘This cannot end here.’

  ‘It must, my lord. It is the nature of the masquerade.’

  ‘But you must tell me your name.’

  A smile trembled on her lips. ‘I have done so, sir. You need know nothing else of me.’

  He gave a little growl of frustration. ‘I need to know everything about you. I shall not let you go until I know everything about you!’ A nearby church clock struck the hour. Nathan raised his head, counting. ‘Twelve.’ He laughed. ‘Midnight! It is time for the unmasking.’

  She put her hands against his chest. ‘You go in—I need a moment to compose myself.’

  He hesitated, covering her fingers with his own as his eyes searched her face. He said at last, ‘Very well, but only one moment.’

  She nodded. �
��I will follow you. Now go.’

  Nathan could not resist stealing one final kiss before he tore himself away and slipped back into the ballroom.

  The orchestra played a fanfare as the last strokes of midnight died away and amid much laughter, cries and shouts the guests abandoned their disguises. Through the crowds Nathan could see Sir James and Lady Souden embracing, their masks discarded. Now was the moment. He tore off his own mask, glad to be free of it at last. He looked around for his lady. She had not yet come in and impatiently he stepped out on to the terrace.

  It was empty. He walked the length of it and back again, but there was no sign that she had ever been there, save for a black feather fan lying discarded on the floor.

  Swiftly Nathan ran down the steps into the garden. He tore around the side of the house to the front drive. Just in time to see a carriage driving out through the gates.

  ‘Damnation!’

  He watched the coach vanish into the darkness. It was too late; even if he called for his own chaise his quarry would have disappeared by now, effectively hidden amongst the other carriages filling the London streets.

  Exhaling slowly, Nathan sat down on a low wall and stared into the darkness, aware of an overwhelming sense of loss. Temptation. She had named herself well. She had moved him more in a few short hours than any other woman he had ever known. His head went up. All except one.

  Chapter Five

  Only when she was safely inside the carriage and on her way back to Berkeley Square did Felicity allow herself to consider what she had done. She had spoken to Nathan, danced with him—and so much more. For a few brief hours he had been hers alone. In vain did she tell herself it meant nothing to him, that he would view it as a mere flirtation with a stranger. She had been in his arms, experienced his passion and nothing could crush the little seed of hope growing within her. She crossed her arms, hugging herself. Her body still burned from his touch. She closed her eyes and relived the evening, going over every word he had spoken to her, every little action. When she thought of their time together her insides melted again, just as they had done when he had taken her in his arms. She had spent so long trying to forget him and it had all been for nothing. She loved him now quite as desperately as she had done five years ago.

  The pain and anger she had felt at his betrayal were diminished. Perhaps she had expected too much of him. Seeing Nathan again, being in his arms, had convinced her that she would rather be a small part of his life than to be out of it completely. If he would take her back. Slowly she removed her mask. Perhaps she should have revealed herself to him; she had heard that men would promise anything when they were in the grip of passion. She had been very tempted, but something had held her back, a fear that when his passion cooled he would regret his actions, and she could not bear to think of that.

  She nibbled pensively at the tip of one finger as she considered what she should do next. It was a problem that occupied her thoughts for most of the night.

  With the morning light came a solution. Determined to waste no time, she dressed quickly and made her way to Lydia’s bedchamber. As Felicity followed the maid into the room, Lady Souden gave a little shriek.

  ‘Heavens, Fee, what are you doing here so early? Go away, do, until Janet has had time to make me presentable!’

  Felicity regarded her friend’s frothy lace bedgown and the very fetching cap tied over her golden curls.

  ‘You look very presentable, Lydia, and you are well aware of it. Now do, pray, let me talk to you. It is important.’

  ‘Oh, very well.’ Lady Souden waved her maid away. ‘I confess I am desperate to learn how you went on last night—I saw you dancing with Rosthorne and could scarce contain my curiosity. If James had not been with me I vow I should have had to come to your room last night to find out what happened! He did not recognise you?’

  Felicity perched herself on the edge of the bed. ‘No. I left before the unmasking.’ That at least was true.

  ‘But he danced with you, several times, and I saw him taking you outside.’

  Felicity’s cheeks grew warm under her friend’s scrutiny. ‘Yes. He…kissed me.’

  ‘Yes?’ Lydia put down her cup. ‘Is that all?’

  Felicity hung her head, feeling the heat spreading from her cheeks—even the tips of her ears felt warm. ‘It was a very—a very passionate kiss,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Oh, I knew it!’ Lydia clapped her hands. ‘I knew he would not be able to resist you! And he looked so preoccupied when we saw him later in the evening.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Quite distracted, my love! He left soon after midnight. Ring the bell, Fee! I must get dressed and we must think what to do—’

  ‘I have decided what I must do,’ Felicity interrupted her. ‘I must write to him. I shall not give him my direction; I would not have him blame you or Sir James for my deception.’ She clasped her hands together tightly in her lap. ‘I shall explain everything, and throw myself upon his mercy. If…if he wishes to see me again it shall be arranged. If not…’ she tried to smile ‘…I hope you will let me go back to Souden.’

  ‘Of course you may, but I do not think that will happen. Once Rosthorne sees you again he cannot fail to want you.’

  Felicity could not share her friend’s optimism—there was so much Lydia did not know. She said in a low voice, ‘There is no guarantee he will want to acknowledge me. In Spain he looked after me out of pity.’

  ‘It was not pity that kept him at your side last night,’ observed Lydia drily. She reached out and clasped Felicity’s hands between her own. ‘Have faith in yourself, Fee. I am confident the earl will want you back.’

  ‘We shall see. Whatever the outcome, I am truly sorry to leave you without a companion—’

  ‘That is of little consequence compared to your happiness. Besides, there is always my widowed cousin Agnes; she would dearly love to come and bear me company. But we have talked enough. I have arranged for us to go to the silk mercers in Covent Garden this morning, but after that I shall not need you, and you will be free to write your letter!’

  However, when Lydia peeped into her room just before the dinner hour, Felicity was still at her writing desk.

  ‘But how is this? Have you not finished yet?’

  Felicity indicated the scrunched-up balls of paper littering the floor. ‘All my attempts so far have come to nought. It is proving far more difficult than I thought to explain everything.’

  ‘Perhaps you should just ask him to meet you.’

  Felicity grew cold at the thought. ‘But I behaved like a wanton last night—what will he think of me?’

  ‘You have hidden yourself from him for five years,’ retorted Lydia. ‘Do you think Rosthorne will forgive that more easily?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘I do wish I could stay and help you with your letter,’ said Lydia, ‘but James and I are promised to attend the Prince Regent at the theatre tonight. You must wait up for me and I will tell you all about it. James has heard that the Princess of Wales will put in an appearance!’

  ‘Poor woman,’ murmured Felicity. ‘I am sure she regrets her marriage. I know she does not behave very well—both she and the Regent are shockingly indiscreet—but one cannot help but feel sorry for her.’

  ‘Feel sorry instead for James,’ Lydia urged her. ‘He will have the unhappy task of soothing the Prince’s ruffled sensibilities if the Princess makes an appearance, as well as explaining away any awkwardness to the Tsar and his sister!’

  After a solitary dinner Felicity returned to her desk, but soon discovered that her wasted efforts had exhausted her supply of paper and ink. Rather than disturb the servants she decided to go down to the morning room and make use of Lady Souden’s elegant writing cabinet.

  One of the best things about living in Berkeley Square, thought Felicity, was that Sir James ordered candles to be kept burning throughout the house during the evening, in readiness for his return from the nightly round of balls and
parties that he and Lady Souden were obliged to attend. There was therefore no need for Felicity to use her bedroom candle to light her way down the stairs, nor did she have to send for more lights in the morning room: she had only to move a branched candlestick to the top of the writing cabinet to provide her with ample illumination. She spent some time searching for plain paper and mending her pen, then, unable to put it off any longer, she began to write.

  She had scarcely finished the first line when she heard the door open and the footman’s echoing utterance.

  ‘The Earl of Rosthorne!’

  The pen dropped from her nerveless fingers. She turned in her chair and stared as Nathan strode into the room.

  The candlelight, which Felicity had thought so beneficial moments ago, now seemed far too glaring. There were no concealing shadows that she could step into, even if she could have made her limbs obey her, which she couldn’t—they seemed to have turned to stone.

  ‘So. It is you.’

  Felicity could not speak. The footman withdrew, closing the door behind him. Fear tingled down her spine as she saw the glitter in Nathan’s eyes. The thought flitted through her mind that she would be safer shut in with a wild animal.

  ‘I thought you were dead.’

  ‘No, I—’ Her mouth felt very dry. ‘How did you discover me?’

  He put his hat and gloves upon a side table. The candlelight glinted on the heavy signet ring he wore on his left hand.

  ‘Your disguise last night was very clever, but there was something…familiar about you. I couldn’t put my finger on it, until you had gone.’

  ‘How…who told you I was here?’

  ‘You did.’

  She shook her head. ‘But I never—’

  ‘The Stinchcombes’ garden,’ he cut in. ‘You told me you were a companion. It did not take any blazing intelligence to think of the self-effacing Miss Brown, Lady Souden’s drab little attendant.’