She dashed the tears from her cheeks and sat. “He mustn’t want me as much as he professed. More fool me.”
Betsy knocked on the door. “It’s time to ready for the evening’s parties, My Lady.”
“The parties.” Michelle snorted. “I don’t want to attend the blasted parties.”
Betsy blinked at her.
Michelle climbed off the bed and smoothed out her skirt. “But since the alternative is staying home with my mother… Betsy, I believe you have the right of it.”
Betsy nodded and dressed Michelle’s hair, pinning the curls in a graceful tumble on top of her head. Michelle slipped into the beautiful gown of deep violet she’d chosen that morning. Michelle let Betsy finish with her, saying nothing. Betsy must have sensed her mistress’ reticence, for she kept her opinions to herself. With a nod to her mistress, Betsy took her leave.
Michelle regarded herself in the cheval mirror. She’d been so happy that morning when she’d chosen the beautiful gown. She’d imagined the pleasure on Paul’s handsome face when he saw her in it. But now the thought of seeing him filled her with unease. What would she say to him? Was their engagement still intact? Did she want it to be? Next Season, indeed.
She pulled on her gloves and went down to the carriage.
There were several parties that evening and Michelle was happy for the diversion. She was relieved when she didn’t see Paul at the first one she attended but disappointed as well. She traveled with some friends, two young girls who were completely oblivious to her discomfort in the noisy hubbub. At least they left Michelle on her own, much to her relief.
She entered the ballroom at the second bash, glancing around the room for any sign of Paul. She saw his sisters and froze. To her renewed relief and disappointment, they were escorted by the Earl of Chester and Viscount Roberts. Paul was nowhere to be seen.
Chester crossed over to her. “Lady Michelle,” he said with a bow. “How nice to see you.”
“Hello, Lord Chester,” Michelle said.
“And are you enjoying yourself?”
She managed to smile. “Oh, the party is lovely. But, enjoying myself? Not particularly.”
Chester blinked at her in apparent confusion. “Do you happen to know why Leed—?”
Roberts stepped in front of Chester and bowed. “Good evening, Lady Michelle.”
“Lord Roberts,” she returned.
“May I say you look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Roberts held his hand out to her. “As our dear friend Leed is not in attendance, perhaps you will do me the honor of a dance?”
She flinched at the unexpected mention of Paul and the room seemed too hot for a moment. She recovered herself and gave her hand to Roberts. She let him twirl her about the floor, blessedly conscious of only the music and the dance steps.
* * * *
Paul stayed home that evening, coward that he was. While he didn’t think Michelle would attend the parties, he couldn’t face that chance. What would he say to her if he saw her?
He ate dinner alone in his dining room, his mind occupied with thoughts of Michelle and their engagement. How could he prove he still wanted to marry her? He only wished to push the wedding back until he had a firmer grasp on his finances. But he couldn’t tell her that. She was an heiress, for God’s sake! And he’d rather lose her than admit he couldn’t provide for her and their children. If he was being prideful, so be it. With a sigh of irritation, he pushed his dish away. According to his father, pride was really all he had at the moment. He went into his study, prepared for a long, lonely evening.
Chester opened the door to Paul’s study some time later.
“Chester, what—?”
“You’re a fool, Leed.”
Paul blinked at the anger in Chester’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re going to lose her if you’re not careful.”
“Why?” Paul came to his feet. “Where is she?”
“She’s at a party without the man who offered for her, that’s where she is.”
“But, I…” He pushed his hair back from his brow. “How did she look?”
“She looked very beautiful, Leed. And very sad.”
“Ah, Chester.” Paul groaned and slumped back down into his chair. “I see no way out of this.”
Chester sat in the chair facing him, his brow furrowed. “What happened?”
“I went over to her mother’s today.”
“And? Surely her mother didn’t refuse you.”
“No, no. Quite the opposite.”
“Then, what?”
“I told her the wedding would have to wait until next Season and—”
“Next Season? Why the devil would you insist on that?”
“I have virtually no inheritance to hope for, Chester.”
Chester shook his head, incomprehension stamped on his face.
“My father lost nearly all of it,” Paul said.
“But… How?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Chester raised his brows. “It’s not like you to leave it at that.”
“I know.” Paul nodded. “But with Michelle to consider, I have enough on my mind at present.”
“But the girl is quite enamored of you. Even Roberts saw that.”
“I know, but with my accounts—”
“This is about your accounts? Why of all the stubborn, thick-headed—”
“Chester, I have to work a while longer to provide Michelle with the life she deserves.”
“She deserves to have the man she loves, Leed. Do you doubt she loves you?”
Paul stared at his friend as his heart slowly beat out the truth. “No.”
“And do you love her?”
“Yes, damn it,” Paul snapped. “I love her.”
“Don’t tell me, friend.” Chester smiled. “Tell her.”
Chester left him then. Paul poured himself a brandy and thought about what his friend said.
“I’ll do it.” He drained his glass and set it back on the desk. “I’ll go to her, money be damned.”
He got up out of his chair and went upstairs to dress. He wanted to look his best when he swept the lovely Michelle off her feet.
* * * *
Michelle’s shoulders sagged with relief when at last the evening was at an end. She climbed into the waiting carriage, finding her two young companions apparently as tired as she was. She was grateful for the silence on the way home. She’d had more than enough forced frivolity for one evening, and looked forward to crawling into bed and crying herself to sleep. Her lips curled. How bloody melodramatic.
The carriage rocked to a stop in front of her house. She bade the other ladies good night and let herself inside.
Thankfully her mother had already retired for the evening. Michelle climbed the stairs and turned down the hall to her room. She managed to unfasten the many hooks in the back of her gown and draped it over a chair. Betsy had left out a nightgown of thin lawn, along with a matching wrapper. Michelle undressed, donned the filmy gown and loosened her hair. She climbed into bed, pulled the covers up over her head and managed to fall asleep.
Sometime later, she awoke with a start. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, so it was little wonder she was awake again. Then she heard something that surprised her. Someone was tapping on her window.
“Don’t be a fool,” she whispered as she closed her eyes again. “The room isn’t on the ground floor.”
The little taps came again. She cocked her head and listened carefully. What the devil…?
She climbed out of bed and lit the candle in the holder on the bedstand. Grabbing her wrapper, she tied it tightly about her waist and went to the window.
She pulled aside the heavy draperies but couldn’t see anyone. The sound came again, startlingly close to her face. Pebbles? Someone was throwing pebbles at her window? She looked down at the street, her heartbeat skidding to a stop as she saw Paul standing just inside the light of the streetlamp. He stared up at her, hope clear on his face.
She opened the sash. “Paul, what on earth are you doing here?”
“I had to see you, Michelle,” he rasped.
She gazed furtively up and down the street. His carriage was parked a few houses down from hers, but should she risk the scandal?
“Let me in, love,” he said in a whisper. “Let me in or I’ll shout how much I love you for all the world to hear.”
He looked like he’d do it, too. A shiver danced over her flesh.
“Ooh, I’ll be right down.” She nodded and closed the sash. “He loves me?” Grinning, she grabbed the candle and hurried down the stairs to the front door. She opened the door and peeked out. Motioning for him to be silent, she let him in. He closed the door and followed her into the parlor.
She crossed to the mantle and lit the candles there, turning to face him. “Paul, what is this about?”
“Shh.” He closed and locked the parlor doors. “Michelle, I had to see you.”
“When you were here this afternoon—”
“I know, darling,” he cut in. “I was a fool.”
She considered him closely. “True.”
He chuckled softly. He crossed to her and took her hands in his and led her to the settee, pulling her down to sit beside him. “I love you, Michelle. I’m sorry about this afternoon.”
His simple words set her heart soaring. She’d been half in love with him since last year at Kanewood, when she’d first seen his smile. And now with his kisses, his caresses, his acceptance of her mind and opinions…
“I love you, too, Paul,” she admitted. “When I thought you didn’t want to marry me, I nearly died.”
He held her close, stroking her hair. “I want to marry you, love. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“Why, then, did you want to wait until next Season?”
She couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. He pulled back and cupped her face with his hand.
“Never mind the reason,” he said gently. “I don’t want to wait for you.”
“What are you saying?”
“Will you marry me this Saturday?”
She blinked up at him. “Saturday?” She smiled. “First you wished to wait a year and now you won’t wait a week?”
He quirked a half smile at her. “I don’t want to lose you.”
She regarded him closely. “Yes, Paul.” She nodded. “I’ll marry you this Saturday.”
He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. He grinned at her and she arched a brow at him in question.
“I don’t know which lovely hand I will take in marriage.”
“Take them both,” she said sweetly.
He turned them and placed a kiss in each palm. He brought his eyes up to hers. “And will they hold me as they did on our picnic?” he asked, his eyes dark.
Her breath caught at the desire evident in his gaze. “They will never push you away again,” she breathed.
Paul stood then, bringing her with him. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping through her mouth. She moaned and reached up to twine her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, pressing herself against him. He pulled back as if to catch his breath, holding her away from him. He ran his gaze over her and her mouth went dry.
“Ah, Michelle,” he said, bringing his eyes back to her face. “I can scarcely wait to make you mine.”
“I am yours,” she answered. “Always.”
Paul untied the sash at her waist, loosening her wrapper. He pushed the garment off of her shoulders, all the while keeping his eyes on her face. He held her nightgown open, his hands cupping her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples, eliciting a gasp from her parted lips.
She leaned her head back and strained toward him. “Paul…”
He dropped his hands to her slender waist, holding her still while he trailed hot kisses down the front of her. His mouth found her breast. His tongue rasped over the nipple and she clutched at his shoulders as she arched in response.
“Ah, the way you respond to me, love,” he whispered. “We’ll be incredible together.”
Michelle only whimpered in response. He kissed the valley between her breasts, teasing her. “Oh, please…” she begged, her eyes closed tight.
He finally obliged her, closing his mouth over the sensitive bud. He suddenly pulled his head back, his breathing ragged. “I want you so badly I ache with it.”
“I want you, Paul.”
“God, Michelle. If I don’t stop myself I’m liable to throw you down on this fine oriental carpet and take you here in the parlor.”
He brought his face up to hers, kissing her lightly on her parted lips. His hands shook as he closed her nightgown. The fabric clung to her moistened skin.
“I want you, Michelle,” he said again.
“Take me, Paul.”
He gently stroked her cheek with his hand. “No, love. I won’t have you until we’re wed.” He took her hand and placed it against the front of his breeches. “Can you feel how much I want you?”
Her fingers trailed lightly over him through his tight breeches and he groaned in response.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“Yes,” he ground out. “But I’ll live.”
She closed her hand over him then. He breathed in sharply and grasped the back of her neck. He kissed her, his tongue thrusting deeply. She kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands stealing up under his jacket to caress his back. He finally dragged his mouth from hers and sighed, a long, ragged sound in the quiet of the parlor. Their foreheads touched as he stared into her eyes.
“I have to go,” he said.
Michelle nodded and stepped back from him. He opened the doors and peered out. Seeing no one about, he walked quietly to the front door. He turned to her and took her into his arms once more.
“Good night, Michelle.”
“Good night. Unless… you wish to accompany me upstairs?”
Paul breathed in sharply and stared at her. He caught her smile. “Ah, a lusty wench,” he chuckled. “I am a lucky man.”
Chapter 8
When Michelle woke the next morning, she thought about what happened last night. It seemed like a wonderful dream. Except if it had been a dream, they would have made love on the floor of the parlor! Her body flushed at that provocative image. She didn’t know precisely what would’ve happened but she was certain that, with Paul, it would’ve been wonderful.
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. As she rushed through her morning toilette, a thought occurred to her. She couldn’t tell her mother about Paul’s plans to call this morning. How would she explain her knowledge of it? She pictured the look on her mother’s face if she told her the truth, and was seized by a fit of giggles. She changed into her chemise and petticoat and brushed her hair, impatient for Betsy’s arrival.