Eleven
“While I, too, miss our frank exchange of confidences, I must beg of you to respect my wishes, dear friend, and let me settle this affair as I see fit. There are certain aspects about all of this that I prefer to remain private. It is clear from your tone that you are not happy with this decision, however I assure you it is all for the best. I trust it will not be a great deal longer before all of this is behind me, and we may return to our former routine.”
Marcus tossed the brief letter onto his desk, along with his York tan driving gloves and the book he had borrowed. Ignoring all of them for the moment, he made for the sideboard and poured himself a stiff brandy. Though not in the habit of beginning his libations at such an early hour, he decided the events of the past hour merited a glass.
Or perhaps more than one.
Threading his hand through his hair, the earl took a long swallow, hoping the amber liquid might help dampen his heated emotions. Even now, he was hardly aware of how he had managed to guide his team back through the crowded streets of Mayfair, as his thoughts had been in a pelter over the staggering revelation that had taken place in Lady Augusta’s study.
It still seemed beyond belief. On more than one occasion during the drive home, he had pressed his eyes firmly shut, hoping that when he opened them again, he might find himself awakened from a terrible nightmare. Alas, the book under his arm and the lingering taste of Augusta’s kisses on his lips were all too real.
A muttered oath spilled forth from those same lips as he sought to make some sense of the strange feelings burning inside him.Anger. Desire. Shock. Longing—he couldn’t begin to put a name to it all.
To think that the prickly, opinionated Lady Augusta was, underneath that rather rigid exterior, such a brilliant and original thinker defied imagination.And not only that, her intelligence was not of a dry, ethereal sort, but made infinitely more compelling by her sensitivity and passion.
Oh. Definitely passion.
Marcus took another hurried gulp of brandy. Passion, indeed! The fiery spirits were not nearly as potent as the memory of her response to his kisses.
After pouring another glass, he took a seat at his desk and took out the packet of all her previous letters from the top drawer where they were safely stowed under lock and key. It was quite some time before he finished re-reading each one of them. With a long sigh, he laid them aside, though his eyes could not help from straying back to the flowing script that covered the sheets of paper.
She was right.The insights and wisdom of their contents were undiminished by the knowledge that their author was a female. Why, if anything, it added a certain allure to the words. He steepled his fingers under his chin and quirked a rueful grimace. More than that, it was impossible to deny that a bond had developed between them that went beyond intellectual matters. Hell’s teeth, they had shared each other’s hopes, fears and weaknesses. And while a part of him might wish to feel angry or deceived, he couldn’t, in all honesty, claim that the relationship had been aught but a source of strength and support to him.
Ye gods, it was all so damned confusing!Marcus didn’t know quite what he was feeling. His gaze slowly drifted to the banked fire in the hearth. As they lingered on the glowing coals, a realization suddenly flared up within him, as if a match had been set to tinder.
The truth was, he knew damn well what he was feeling! He simply didn’t want to admit he was hopelessly, maddeningly in love with the impossible female.
Somehow Lady Augusta had managed to burn away all the barriers he had carelessly allowed to build up around his true self. It was both frightening and exhilarating—frightening in that he felt so vulnerable, exhilarating in that he no longer had to face all his doubts and fears alone.
His expression then turned very thoughtful. It was all very well for him to wax romantic over the momentous discovery of his true feelings, but what of Lady Augusta’s notions on the matter? What had she meant when she had said that had she known it was him, she never would have said what she did?
His fingers began to drum on the leather blotter. One didn’t have to possess an extraordinary intellect to know exactly what she meant.
She might have tender feelings for the author of the letters, but she didn’t like him above half.
Marcus drained off the rest of his glass and put it down with a thump. Well, he was simply going to have to convince her that the flesh-and-blood part of him was just as attractive as his more cerebral attributes. As he recalled the feeling of her glorious body molded close to his, the warmth of her lips, the gossamer touch of her fingers on his skin, he felt a surge ofveryflesh-and-blood heat.
Oh, yes, he most definitely would have to convince her of that.
However, Marcus had no allusions that it was going to be easy. It was important that he not rush his fences, but rather proceed at a more deliberate pace, giving her time to get used to the idea that they might rub along together without creating sparks of the wrong sort. The thought of fireworks brought back to mind their most recent encounter, and her response to his embraces. It seemed there was some cause for hope. After all, she hadn’t taken a poker to his head.
The clock on the mantel chimed the hour, reminding him of several obligations that must be seen to before he called once again at Lord Farnum’s townhouse. He got slowly to his feet and tucked the bundle of Firebrand’s letters carefully back into the desk drawer.
So much for ink and paper. It was now time to face the real flame.
As his spiritedteam of grays slowed to a sedate walk after passing through Hyde Park’s Stanhope gate, Augusta and Marcus eyed each other with a certain wariness. Neither hadspoken since the earl had handed Augusta up into his phaeton. Indeed, though nods and greetings had been exchanged with a number of acquaintances who were also out for a drive, neither had so much as glanced in the other’s direction. But now, as the vehicle turned onto a quieter path leading to a distant part of the park, an exchange of words seemed unavoidable.
“I suppose I should apologize—” began Marcus
“No doubt you think me—” said Augusta at the same time.
In some embarrassment, they both fell silent. It was the earl who finally spoke up again first. “Er, I would have you know I had no intention of snooping among your things, Lady Augusta. I truly had come to borrow the book, and your sister indicated that I might look for it in your room. That the letter was on your desk was?—”
“Was most unfortunate,” finished Augusta. She drew in a deep breath. “Still, I was wrong to hurl such accusations at you, sir.”
Marcus cleared his throat.”As to what else took place within the room …”
“Please. You needn’t mention it.” Her cheeks turned scarlet. “I’m afraid we were both angry and not thinking clearly.”
