The Wedding Game(38)

He reached to undo the flap of his trousers.

And then, without warning, the hand that had just caressed him pulled back and struck his cheek, hard, as if to knock sense back into him.

He reeled back, suddenly aware of what he’d been about to do. Then he scanned the room, staring at the windows that faced a busy London street. The curtains were partly drawn, the divan obscured by a corner of the fireplace. Thank God she had locked the door when she had entered. But what if a servant had overheard what was happening? He thought they had been quiet, but it had been minutes since he’d been able to hear anything over the pounding of his own heart and the music of her ragged breathing.

Apparently, she’d come to her senses as well for she’d pulled away from him to sit up, pushing her skirts down and her bodice up and trying to return to decency. ‘You’ve made your point,’ she said, focusing on the arrangement of her clothing, unwilling to meet his eyes. ‘I agree. It will be unwise of me to stay in your house, once you have married my sister.’

‘If I marry her,’ he corrected. Surely after what had just happened, she did not think he would carry through on the farce that they were playing.

‘Once you marry her,’ Amy said, still not looking up. ‘What just happened between us does not change a thing.’

‘And why shouldn’t it?’ At the very least, it had turned his future from difficult to impossible. He could not marry Arabella. Though he had vowed to himself that he would never love anyone again, what he felt for Amy Summoner was not something that could be ignored.

‘You made the bargain with my father,’ she said, finally looking up and shaking her head in what looked like pity. ‘One does not simply walk away from Lord Geoffrey Summoner, after a deal has been struck. You will understand soon enough, I am sure. But for now, you must excuse me, Mr Lovell. I need to attend to my sister’s tea. Please, take a moment to compose yourself before you leave.’





Chapter Fourteen

Two years earlier, when Amy had decided that she would never marry, one of the reasons had been to avoid situations just like the one she was in. It had been clear that a future with any of her suitors was likely to end in disappointment.

They all began with the same fine words: compliments, protestations of devotion and promises of future happiness. If she encouraged them, they followed with smouldering gazes, lingering kisses and furtive touches in dark corners. But no matter how ardent they were, their heads turned should another young lady walk past. Only a fool would expect fidelity from them, since many kept mistresses, even as they looked for wives.

If pressed on the subject, they would deny it, of course. They would claim to live and die on her every breath. But when questioned in detail there was no indication that their affection was anything more than physical attraction. They did not seem to know her, nor did they show an inclination to learn. The impression they gave was that courtship was a man’s game. But once a marriage had taken place, it was the wife’s job to learn the husband’s likes and dislikes and cater to them accordingly.

If she was to be forced to live her life for another, she’d decided it would be better to live for Belle than for someone who was likely to forget all about her once the thrill of the chase had faded. There was no subterfuge in her sister. Belle loved without condition and without end. If she ever caused pain, she had the sense to regret it and apologise. She was worthy of Amy’s devotion.

Ben Lovell was not. He did not even bother to pretend that his ultimate interest lay with the woman he courted. He had kissed Amy one night and offered for Belle a few hours later. Then he had gone back to seducing Amy immediately after he’d got his acceptance.

Even worse, she had wanted him to do it. The steady heart that she had devoted to caring for her beloved sister was beating quicker at thoughts of the worst man possible. Even knowing that he was engaged to the one person in the world she had vowed to protect, she had allowed him to raise her skirts and prove to her how little she knew about what really went on between men and women. Worst of all, she regretted that she’d sent him away before they had finished what they’d begun.

‘Amy!’

She looked up to see her sister holding out her needlework for inspection with the same hopeful smile she wore every day. Perhaps this time her work would be satisfactory. ‘Did I do it right?’

‘Let us see.’ Amy kept her focus on the fabric, unable to look her sister in the eye. ‘This bit is all right, but the last will have to be undone.’

‘Better, then,’ Belle said and put her sewing aside to scratch Mellie’s ears.

‘Better,’ Amy lied and began to rip out the stitches. It was not as if Belle would notice the change, any more than she would notice that Amy was too ashamed to meet her gaze.

I want to lie with your fiancé.

There was no way to make her feelings honourable. Neither was there a way to make Belle understand how horrible it was. Even thinking about what had happened in this very room made her want to melt back into the cushions and touch herself. How was she to explain the details of married life to Belle without thinking of her sister’s future husband and imagining herself as the recipient of the skills he had demonstrated on her just a few hours ago?

She returned to her own needlework, staring towards the window instead of at Belle. ‘Did you enjoy your ride with Mr Lovell this morning?’