Heiress Without a Cause

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

She stared at him in shock, her gorgeous green eyes lit up by a sunbeam and shining with unshed tears. He should have been more careful, shouldn't have been so open. She had been a virgin the night before, and he realized too late that she did not know how to cope with the depth of his demands. Hell, even the most experienced Cyprian would have been scared off by how much he claimed to need her.

He clamped his lips shut. He vowed he would not make the moment any worse. After all, he had his answer now - she was afraid of who he might become, and he had as good as confirmed that he was already on that path.

So even though she didn't give him the answer he wanted, he was supremely relieved when she finally spoke. "I cannot trust you yet," she said, the misery in her voice mollifying just a bit of his wounded pride. "But I would not want to lose you either."

She hadn't accepted his proposal - but at least she had not written him off as a lunatic after his last speech. He could live with her answer. And he would use every moment she gave him to win her over.

He raised her gloved hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. He wanted to strip the glove off her hand, kiss each finger with the attention it deserved, nuzzle her wrist before moving up her arm to claim her mouth. But they were still in Hyde Park, and he was with Madeleine, not Marguerite.

So he dropped her hand and said, "I hope you shall trust me someday, and I will prove to you that I am worthy of it. At least we have two more weeks at the theatre - it would kill me to only see you at rout-parties and musicales."

He could surely convince her by the time the play ended. With her passion and his desire to give her pleasure, he did not think she could outlast his efforts to seduce her. But she sighed at his words. "We cannot be alone after the theatre anymore. Alex caught me when I returned to Salford House last night, and he is furious at us."

She shared what had happened in a quick, nearly toneless monologue, as though she could not stand to tell him without stripping the emotion out first. He could not imagine going straight from their bed to an inquisition in front of her relatives. When she finished the retelling, he did not know who he wished to skewer first - Amelia for betraying her, Augusta for planning to exile her to Bermuda, or Salford for threatening to force her into marriage.

"I told you Amelia was a harpy," he said when she finished.

"She did what she thought best. I cannot fault her intentions, even if her actions lacked finesse."

He knew better than to pursue that thread - even if she felt betrayed by her cousin, she would not tolerate someone else's criticism. He also decided to leave the subject of Salford alone. It wasn't a nice thought, but the knowledge that Salford might force an engagement suited Ferguson's desires even if he preferred Madeleine's consent.

Instead, he said, "We have to ensure that you are not forced to move to Bermuda. It would be harder for me to court you there, after all."

She grinned, and he was glad to see she could still be amused. "Moving to Bermuda may have its benefits."

He laughed. "If Bermuda is good enough for Lady Mad, it is good enough for me. Still, I believe we can survive the next two weeks without incident. Unless you decided to end the play early?"

Madeleine hesitated, looking away from him to survey the field beyond. He realized she was hiding something - something that affected them both. "What is it, Mad?"

"I cannot quit," she said, looking back at him with equal parts resignation and determination. "It should have ended the first night you attended, but Madame Legrand threatened to sell my identity to the Gazette if I did not agree to extend the run."