If he were being honest, he wished to have her by his side every other day, as well. John had thought that the worst part about finding himself embroiled in a faux courtship would be playing along with the farce. It turned out, the worst part was knowing all stories must come to an end.
Much like this supper.
When the last of the macaroons vanished from the platter at the center of the table, Miss Portia and Miss Dorcas exchanged meaningful glances, then rose to their feet.
“Oh, dear,” said Miss Portia. “I am ever so sleepy. I must lie down at once.”
“You woke up at noon,” Allegra reminded her. “You said you were skipping your dip in the sea in order to be rested for the assembly rooms tonight.”
“I feel a megrim coming on as well,” Miss Dorcas said. “We absolutely, in no other circumstances, would ever leave our innocent cousin unchaperoned with a conscienceless pirate—”
“Not too innocent,” Miss Portia whispered. “They know each other carnally.”
“Semi-innocent cousin,” Miss Dorcas amended, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead with dramatic flair. “Alas, we have no choice but to repair to our rooms until the coast is clear and the dessert is…consummated.”
“You cannot possibly imagine us about to make love on the dining table,” Allegra chided her cousins. “It would be dreadfully uncomfortable. Not just for my poor back, but also when the footman returns and catches us in the act.”
“It’s Captain L’Amour,” Miss Portia told her. “He doesn’t care about propriety.”
“Also we gave the footman the evening off,” Miss Dorcas added.
Allegra’s mouth fell open. “You what?”
Miss Portia nodded. “While you two were down in the kitchen, we—”
“Completely coincidentally,” Miss Dorcas cut in. “With absolutely no forethought to any improper behavior that might arise.”
“—may have indirectly suggested—”
“—or possibly directly commanded—”
“—the staff to enjoy the rest of the evening anywhere they wished that was not the dining room. If you ring for them, they’ll come clear the dishes, but if you were to, say, forget to tug the bell pull for an hour—”
“—or two—”
“—you would find yourselves quite alone with utterly no interruptions until Father returns from romancing rich widows three or four hours from now.”
“I do advise being clothed and alone by then,” Miss Dorcas whispered behind her hand, before returning it to her forehead. “Oh, dear, my spontaneous megrim—how it pains me. Come, Portia, we must abandon the dining room at once.”
“With deepest sorrow,” Miss Portia added, before erupting into giggles as she and her sister chased each other out of the room.
The mahogany door closed tight behind them.
“Subtle,” John said. “I couldn’t quite determine… Do you think they approve of a match between us?”
“I think they would have run off after the first course if it wasn’t all so delicious,” Allegra said with a laugh. “You flummoxed them by forcing their growling stomachs to stay until the last crumb.”
“Well,” he said. “Now that they’ve gone through all the trouble to set up a carefully orchestrated seduction scene, as a guest, I suppose it would be churlish of me to waste an opportunity for a ravishing.”
They both looked at the cluttered table.
“Perhaps,” Allegra said, “if the minxes had thought to give the servants the night off after the plunder board was free of dirty dishes.”
“Have you ever made love on a table?”
He regretted the question the moment it was out of his mouth. Her past was none of his business, and furthermore, if she had, her prior carnal encounters with other men was not something he wished to imagine.
“No,” she said softly. “I’ve never made love anywhere. You were my first kiss.”
He could not stop a sudden rush of possessiveness coursing through his blood.
“You could kiss me again,” she offered. “If you wanted.”
John pulled her onto his lap. “I have never stopped wanting you.”
He covered her mouth with his, reveling in the warmth and softness of her ample curves pressing against the hard planes of his body. He would not be ravishing her on this or any table, but he would thoroughly enjoy every single kiss he could steal between now and the end of their holiday.
Her mouth tasted of spiced wine and the sugar-almond macaroons. He would never tire of her taste, of her scent, of her soft body. Her kisses were sweeter than spun sugar and more addictive than opium. The real melody wasn’t the recipe he’d been forced to improvise in the kitchen. It was every moment he’d shared with Allegra these past weeks. Every stolen kiss, every line of trochaic tetrameter, every ridiculous claim made by or about Captain L’Amour, every secret glance and shy smile.
He didn’t want it to end. Not in three hours, not in three months, not ever.
“Let me court you,” he murmured against her lips. “Not in jest as Captain L’Amour, but in truth, as John—”
She leapt to her feet as though he’d thrown a bucket of barberry ices onto her lap.
“No courting. I have the rest of my life mapped out just as I like it, and am so close to finally—”
“What about improvisation?” he asked. “What about making new recipes when the ingredients unexpectedly change?”
She shook her head. “I know you cannot possibly understand—”
“‘No’ is remarkably easy to understand,” he said wryly. “And I did promise to play this game by your rules. If you are uninterested in extending our holiday to a lifetime, I will not pester you with arguments.”
“I just…the inheritance is almost mine,” she said desperately. “Mine. I’ve never had two guineas to rub together, or two days without responsibilities. I’ve dreamed of this for more than a decade and it’s almost within my grasp.”
He nodded slowly. “I respect and understand wanting the thing you’ve always dreamed of having. If there’s any way I can help you to secure it…”
She shook her head. “It’s all spelled out in the will. Uncle shall have no choice in the matter.”
“Have you seen the will? An original copy?”
“Seen it? I sleep with it tucked beneath my mattress. I would ink it onto my skin if I knew how.”
“You have an actual copy lying around?” he said in surprise. “Might I view it?”
Her expression indicated he had asked her to part with one of her limbs.
“Make a copy, if you like. I don’t care about the parchment. I care about the words written upon it. I’d like to study the terms, if you don’t mind.”
She looked worried. “Do you think my uncle will try to find a way not to pay me my portion? What exactly do you expect to discover?”
“I don’t know,” John answered honestly. “But if there’s anything to uncover, I am the man who can find it.”
Chapter 16