She raised her head to look at him properly, and he saw the moisture in her eyes. “So, you’re not entirely insensible to me?” he asked, cautiously, reaching out to touch a tear. “I can still hope?”
She exhaled on a quiet, self-contained sob, sinking against him.
And he held her gently, as if she were made of the finest porcelain, for he could not afford to hurt her, to break her, when only she could mend his broken heart and soul.
“Oh...Sebastian.” She drew in a shuddering breath, turning in his embrace, her hands twining behind his neck as she raised her face for his kiss.
Finally, she was giving him the answer he craved.
Relief made him weak. But only for a moment, for then he was powered by life-giving energy as his arms tightened about her, his hands recording all as he kissed her: the curve of her waist—still so slender—the swell of her bosom—the perfect handful; and his senses rioted with pleasure as a hundred glorious memories swirled around them. The return pressure of her kisses; her sighs of pleasure. He knew she felt as he did.
Cupping her face, he drew back to look at her. “May I remove that nunnish cap—or have you really taken holy orders?”
She smiled and untied the bow beneath her chin, and he reached across to remove the pins that secured her demure coiffure so that her hair fell about her shoulders in glossy dark brown waves.
Hungrily, he tangled his fingers in their remembered softness. “I’ve dreamed of you every night for four years…my darling, brown-haired girl,” he murmured, closing his eyes briefly as he let her hair slip through his fingers. “I can’t believe you didn’t come to me if you knew,” he swallowed, “that Dorothea had died.”
“I only heard it a few months after the fact.” The moonlight that filtered through the curtains limned the curve of her cheek with a soft glow. “And that was in Lady Indigo’s drawing room when the gossip came to my ears about your affair with Lady Banks.”
The reproach in her look was painful. Gently he cupped her elbows. “I was never unfaithful to Dorothea, for all that you know how much I railed against the marriage that you, Venetia, insisted was the honorable course to follow.”
“But you ably assisted, not just Lady Banks to be unfaithful to her husband, but...but Mrs Compton too, and the gossip was all over town, Sebastian.” Venetia looked at him inquiringly. “I was not going to risk my position, my security as Lady Indigo’s companion, to present myself to you in the fond hope that your feelings for me were as they were when we parted…” She hesitated, dropping her gaze as she whispered… “when everything I heard suggested they were not.”
Her words were like a physical blow. “You could have written...to find out.”
She bit her lip. “Maybe I did.”
“Lord, I never got them! You wrote? Why—”
She shook her head. “I wrote many times. I just never sent them.”
“But why? The day after Dorothea’s funeral, I began looking for you. First in England, then farther afield. And now I have found you and…I’m the happiest man alive.” He swallowed, his ears attuned to the distant sound of footsteps. “And the most confused for while my feelings have not changed, it would appear yours have. Please, Venetia, give me some hope.”
She regarded him steadily. “Only if you can prove beyond a doubt that no one else has taken my place here.” She touched his heart.
“I swear to you that you are the only woman I want to be with. The only woman I’ve ever wanted to be with.” He gripped her hands again and gave them a gentle shake. “Surely you believe me?”
“Words aren’t enough, Sebastian.” She looked away. “I’ve heard too much. Lady Banks—”
“Her husband’s accusations were entirely unfounded. The duel…” He shook his head. “I’ll explain it all…”
The footsteps, though halting and slow, were growing louder.
“And Mrs Compton?”
He stilled. In good conscience, he could not satisfy her with the quick defense that had come to him with regard to Lady Banks.
“Venetia? Is that you?”
He cupped her face again. “Promise you’ll be here in the morning,” he implored. “We have so much to discuss.”
“Such as?”
“Our future together.”
“Much has changed since I last saw you, Sebastian.”
“But not the way I feel about you.” He touched his heart. “Not my love for you, I promise.”
“Venetia!”
Lady Indigo’s strident voice echoed through the chamber. “Where the devil are you for I can hear you clearly. I thought you’d come and fetch me to bed.”
Sebastian drew Venetia quickly within the window embrasure and kissed her again. “I’ll find you in the morning, my darling, and then I shall make it my mission to dispel every doubt and objection you may have over my feelings and conduct and whatever else might stand in the way of a resounding but simple yes to my proposal.”
Her eyes widened, and she gave a short laugh. “You always did think life was simple, Sebastian.” Her lips quirked. “It’s one of the reasons I loved you.”
“And still do, I hope,” he said, smiling, kissing her on the top of the head, reluctant to release her into the path of the advancing old lady whom he made sure did not observe him as he calculated how long it would take to disappear behind a nearby screen. “Where can I see you tomorrow? Please, Venetia, there’s not much time,” he added, suddenly afraid she’d make some excuse that precluded them being together.
For there was a disquieting shadow to Venetia’s smile that tempered the joy and astonishment he’d felt at discovering her at last.
For a terrible moment he thought he’d not receive an answer. Then she said in a rush, as she gathered up her hair and bundled it into a hasty, serviceable knot before pushing it beneath her unflattering cap, “Lady Indigo likes to take a perambulation each morning at eight. I could meet you by the lake.”
Chapter 4
“You’re dawdling, girl. I like a brisk walk, don’t you know!”
Venetia breathed in and increased her pace, pushing the Bath chair in front of her while the old lady steered them along the path by the lake. The air was cold and crisp though; so far, December had been reasonably mild.
“Are there some strange creatures hiding in the woodlands?”
Venetia made a face at this next round of carping but stayed silent.
“If not, I can’t imagine why else you’d keep glancing into the trees. Who are you expecting to see?”
For an old woman who was half deaf and blind, Lady Indigo was remarkably percipient.
Venetia sighed and decided the truth—or part of it—was best. At least Lady Indigo couldn’t see her face. “The gentleman who was here last night is the son of the man for whom my father worked for nearly twenty years. He recognized me and wanted to know how Papa did.”
“So he’s lurking in the woods, waiting for my attention to wander, so you can have a secret tryst behind my back?”
“Not at all, m’lady.” Indignation, not embarrassment, burned Venetia’s face though lord knew how she kept her voice even. “I was a child when Papa took the job as bailiff to old Mr Wells. Master Sebastian was always kind to me and...fond of Papa.” There was a basis of truth to this. No need for Lady Indigo to be told, or led to infer, anything more.