Page 33 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

Something about him drew her like iron filings to a magnet. She’d been deceiving herself all along, thinking she could befriend him and keep leashed the strong attraction that flared whenever they were together. The episode at the Neville Tour today showed just how dangerous that assumption was.

Since she’d just demonstrated she couldn’t trust herself to resist him, for the time remaining before she left for London, she would have to avoid his company. No more walks and chats, shared laughter…or burning kisses.

A wave of desolation swept through her.

It must be the lingering effects of the upsetting events at Neville Tour, she told herself, trying to suppress it. Before they reached Ashton, she would allow herself one more opportunity to speak with Greville before she turned him back into ‘Mr Anders’ and kept him there.

And then get herself to London with all speed, before her resolve wavered, and her newly discovered weakness dragged them both into a dishonour from which there was no escape.

By the time she’d got all the sorry details sorted out in her mind, they’d reached the stable drive. By the copse of trees before the final turn, she pulled up her mare, signalling at Greville—Mr Anders—to stop as well.

‘Before we go in, I need to thank you.’

He shook his head. ‘There’s no need.’

‘No, you must let me say it. Bad as our indiscretion was, it could have been much worse. The fact that it wasn’t, I owe solely to your prudence. You exercised restraint while I exhibited none. Not that I will be hypocrite enough to deny how much I enjoyed it. But…’ she felt her face flaming ‘…as I hope you know, that episode cannot be repeated.’

‘I know,’ he replied quietly, with a smile that looked somehow…melancholy. ‘I shall try hard to remember not to tempt you.’

‘And I will try not to place us in a position where you can tempt me.’

He nodded. ‘Best we get back, then.’

As her stomach dropped to the vicinity of her kneecaps, he kicked his horse into motion. After a shocked moment of immobility, she urged the mare after him.

What did she expect from him? she asked herself angrily. To beg her to continue their friendship? To say he’d be desolated if they spent the next few weeks meeting as polite strangers, before she left for London and walked out of his life for good?

He’d been more realistic than she all along, never more so than today, after that episode at Neville Tour. He apparently recognised well before she had that their indiscretion meant the end of their friendship.

Would she find anything in London to replace it?

That dismaying thought made her want to weep again.

As they drew within sight of the stables, Jenkins ran out to meet them. ‘Hurry straight to the house, Miss Amanda. Your papa’s taken ill again.’

Instantly every other concern fell away. ‘Another attack? How bad is it?’

‘Don’t know, miss. But Miss Althea sent for the physician, who arrived about half an hour ago, and told us we was to send you in the second you got home.’

An awful thought occurred to Amanda. ‘Lord Bronning didn’t hear anything about Black John and—’

‘No, Miss,’ the groom assured her. ‘He’d already taken to his bed by the time I got back. Master George was back, too, and neither he nor I saw the need to tell anyone what happened in town or at the Tour.’

Urging the mare forwards, Amanda felt a guilty wave of relief that nothing in her behaviour had contributed to her father’s condition. The relief was swiftly followed by a renewed alarm.

The attack could be serious. Papa had been ill, too, during that awful summer. He’d never fully recovered his strength and vigour after Mama’s passing.

A few minutes later, they reached the front entrance. Greville dismounted and stood ready to help her down. After a moment’s hesitation, she let him.

‘You go on in,’ he said, his touch at her waist light and impersonal. ‘I’ll see that the horses get back to the stable.’

‘Thank you…for everything.’

He gave her the shadow of a smile. ‘I can say with perfect honesty, it was a pleasure.’ The smile faded; an intense look came over his face, as if he wanted to say something else. Shaking his head instead, he said, ‘Go on in, now. Your cousin will be waiting.’

Despite her anxiety to reach her father’s side, with him standing there close beside her, a treacherous longing rose in her. She knew she dare not see him alone again; this had to be the last time. Oh, how she ached to kiss him, to show by that tender salute that she esteemed him and would always treasure the friendship they’d shared.

But then he moved away, leading the horses towards the stable, and the moment was lost. A bittersweet ache rose in her throat. ‘Goodbye, my dear friend,’ she whispered to his retreating back before turning to hurry up the steps.

‘Lord Bronning is in his chamber, Miss Amanda,’ Sands told her as he held open the door. Tossing her cape in his direction, she headed for stairs, moving as rapidly as her skirts would allow. She rushed down the hallway to her father’s room, and, after a soft tap, walked in.

The physician looked up, put a finger to his lips and inclined his head, indicating her sleeping sire. Motioning Papa’s valet to remain, he escorted her back into the hall.

‘How is he? What happened?’ she demanded urgently.

‘It appears he’s had another of the attacks he suffered last summer. I won’t dissemble; this one was serious, with sharp pains in his chest and a great difficulty in breathing. I’ve given him a few drops of digitalis and some laudanum. He’s weak, and still in pain, but resting now.’

‘What should we do for him?’ she asked, fear consuming her. She simply couldn’t bear to lose one more person dear to her.

‘Keep him calm and quiet, let him rest. I recommend that he remain abed for at least a week. Light food, no spirits. Let his body recover.’

‘Is there nothing else?’ she asked, dismayed by how little it appeared she could do.

‘I’m afraid not. His constitution must recover in its own time. But…’

‘What?’

‘I understand you are shortly to leave for London. On no account should Lord Bronning accompany you. The jarring in the coach, the dust and damp of an inn, the noise, smoke and commotion of London would be most injurious. In order to properly recover, he must remain quietly here at Ashton Grove.’

‘Of course. Thank you, Doctor.’

The physician nodded. ‘If it will not trouble you, I’ll remain the night, in case I should be needed.’

‘I’ll have Mrs Pepys prepare you a room at once.’

‘I believe Miss Althea has already done so. I must say, she showed uncommon presence of mind. Evidently she was the first to discover Lord Bronning after his attack. Gave him some of the tincture I’d left, then summoned Sands and his valet to convey him to his chamber. If, instead of taking such prompt and effective action, she’d had gone off in useless hysterics, your father might not still be with us.’

‘I’ll give her my heartfelt thanks. Will you dine with us?’

With a smile, he shook his head. ‘I very much doubt you will wish to entertain tonight. Don’t worry about me; I’ll take a tray in my room, as I suspect you’ll wish to take a tray here, where you can watch over your papa.’

‘Thank you, Dr Wendell. I’ll go back to him now.’

She slipped back into the room, to find her father still sleeping. After whispering to his valet to go to supper, she took his place by her father’s bed.

Covering his hand with hers, she watched him, tears tracking down her cheeks. Poor, dear Papa. How she wished she could take all his cares upon her and will him back to health!

As she settled in beside him, a sudden realisation broke through her anxiety. She wouldn’t be going to London after all. Although Papa had never intended to accompany her into the noise and confusion of the city he disliked, there was no possibility she could leave here with him so ill.

She’d have to stay at Ashton Grove…and put off her Season yet again. In the midst of the wave of frustrated disappointment, a sneaky little thrill sparked through her. She’d have to stay at Ashton Grove…where Greville was.

How long could she resist his appeal with them both here, residing under the same roof? The turbulent emotions of their ride back resurfaced: her attraction to him, her longing for his company pulling against a well-founded fear of his effect on her and a new appreciation for the strength of her passionate nature.

Her mind flew back to those delicious moments at the Neville Tour.

Oh, the sensations he’d sparked in her, his mouth exploring hers in a tangle of tongues! His lips against her throat, her ear; his hands smoothing and fondling her breasts until the nipples peaked under his stroking thumbs. And then, the wonderful, wicked blaze of pleasure as he caressed her knee, her thigh, and up into that hot, sweet secret place. Desire accelerating in a rush until she was breathless, mindless, racing towards a peak more exquisite than she could ever have dreamed.

Exhilarated by her first taste of fulfilment, a deep hunger consumed her to experience it all, to feel within her the hardness that had pressed against her belly, probing the passage his fingers had pleasured…

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