“Yes, and he has told me something of your situation…”
As he spoke, Amanda took a deep breath, her heart strumming. He looked so very masculine and strong and smelled very nice. And very handsome. Yes, he looked very handsome indeed. Amanda’s heart was hammering away determinedly and sounded so loud in her head that she heard nothing of what he was saying, only watched his mouth and admired his fine teeth. The knowledge that he had come here to seek her out, that he was truly that attracted to her and that interested made her suddenly bold, feeling desirable and feminine and alive. She trusted him. More importantly, she loved him desperately. Amanda had thought of little else than this man for two weeks and now had at last come to a spontaneous decision. She was going to live for the moment. She would agree to become his mistress!
Placing her hand on his arm, she interrupted him just as he was beginning the meatier part of his presentation. “Colonel, I have been thinking of what we spoke of at the Winter Ball. Perhaps we should see more of each other, as you said. Much more.” Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and rushed on. “Perhaps we could meet somewhere? You are an experienced man of the world, and I am sure you know of a place where a man and woman can have some private time together, a place that is discreet and out of the way.” Amanda had whispered this in such a rush that she needed to stop and catch her breath. Her face was crimson.
Fitzwilliam stared at her as if she had grown gills. His fine speech went out the window. “I beg your pardon, madam.” He appeared to find her words somehow humorous.
Amanda’s color brightened even more, and for the first time, she looked directly up into his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘I beg your pardon’?” she said, her embarrassment giving her words a harsh clip. “I am suggesting that we should meet. ‘In private,’ as they say.” She raised one eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you wanted? We are both adults, and I am a widow, after all. You need not fear that I will be shocked.”
Instead, Fitzwilliam was shocked, no longer amused by what he thought had been an embarrassing bit of misspeak on her part regarding ‘Private Time Together.’ The chit was serious! What was it about this woman that both pulled him so strongly while at the same time could aggravate the hell out of him so easily? He was never out of sorts with anyone else, always smooth and clever and carefree. Why, he was the most bloody charming person he knew, goddamn it.
“I believe you have misconstrued my meaning, madam, perhaps not listening quite as attentively as you should. I said to you that I had honorable intentions. That generally would mean calling for you at your home, to take you out riding in my impressive carriage—well, actually in my cousin’s impressive carriage—to escort you to the opera, to take tea with you, and to take your son out to the park. In short, madam, I desire assurances that we would suit each other, with an eye toward an offer of marriage.” Damn but she was infuriating. He was not just flapping his lips here! How much plainer must he be?
Seeing the anxious look in her eyes, he dropped his voice to the barely audible. “I certainly did not intend to coax you into some sort of sordid secret liaison.”
“Well, why ever not?”
“What the hell do you mean, ‘Why ever not’?!”
Amanda was distraught. Oh, sweet heaven! All her hopes and dreams were disappearing before her eyes. She was losing this man before ever possessing him. “I believe I made it clear to you that I am not available for courtship, Colonel. However, it is perfectly acceptable here for widows to engage in nonbinding relationships of mutual consent. I am a widow, and therefore I consent.”
He took a step back and stared at her in stunned disbelief. He arched his eyebrow in palpable annoyance. Instead of these perfectly clear machinations dissuading her, she continued! “No. To pursue a course toward marriage would be a complete waste of both of our times. I am quite sophisticated, I’ll have you know, and very worldly. Yes, I am. And what is more, I am already involved with Dr. Milagros, as I have previously mentioned. However, I have spoken with him, and he has no objections if I meet with you also. So, as you can see, there is nothing to impede our being together.” She rocked back on forth on her feet. “It is all very sophisticated.”
Fitzwilliam nearly laughed in her face. “Bah and humbug, madam, what a terrible liar you make! You are not involved with Dr. Milagros! I discussed this with him also.”
Her eyes narrowed. “My, what chums you both have become! Well, he is the deceitful one, he the liar. I will deal with him later.”
His fists balled at his waist. “Amanda, this is beyond enough! I am not going to have you as a mistress, so just put that from your mind. I do not want a mistress! I had a mistress. Actually, I have had several mistresses. I allow myself exactly one mistress per year. Unfortunately, at the present time, I have used up my allotment until the year 1846. And because I have never fully embraced, nor understood, the concept of celibacy, you can understand that it is imperative that I take a wife.” As he spoke, he had gradually backed her into a corner and now towered over her, continuing his furious reply. “ I want a wife and family. I desire that wife to be you, and your son to be my family.”
Amanda was humiliated beyond belief at his refusal, even insulted. Her eyes darted back and forth while her brain tried desperately to catch up. “But I was led to believe all aristocratic Englishmen want a widow to bed so you did not need to marry. Don’t you know this, you ill-tempered person?” She shoved his shoulder in her anger. “Oooh, you aggravating man! I cannot believe how pigheaded you are, and here I was expecting you to be happy! I was expecting you to be thrilled! You are spoiling everything!”
Fitzwilliam coming to court her at Penwood was unthinkable. It terrified her. Her mother-in-law would throw her out into the street and bar the door. There was slim chance of a secret liaison succeeding, let alone a marriage! He must be mad, she thought. Marriage?! A marriage would have to be grabbed in snatches. He would have to accept second place to her son. How soon would it be before he grew to hate her, grew tired of the lies, and asserted his lawful rights over her as his possession?
No, she would have to remain single and in control of her own life. But she wanted him so frantically. She loved him so very deeply.
She just wanted to kill him.
“Please control your temper, madam. Remember, we are in a church.” Fitzwilliam dragged her by the wrist to a more isolated area of the back of the church. When they had at last reached a secluded alcove, he paced back and forth in frustration, raking his hand through his already tousled hair.
“This must be some new ring of hell of which I was unaware,” he muttered, his tone gruff with anger.
In response to this, her arms crossed before her, and her foot rapidly tapped.
“Now, I take it that you doubt the possibility that we can adapt to a marriage that would accommodate your temporary problem with your mother-in-law’s custody of your child.”
He saw the hesitancy in her eyes as they quickly searched his. This is splendid, her heart began to soar. Perhaps he does understand. That is precisely the problem in a nutshell. “Well, yes. I am afraid that marriage is just not possible for me at this time.”
Grunting, he shook his head. For heaven’s sake, he fumed, he could not, in all good conscience, allow her to embark on a relationship with him that would harm her in any way. Her culture was not like his culture, and he realized what she did not, that her preferred course would only lead to tremendous emotional upheaval and guilt for her. He would protect her, even from herself. He loved her beyond all reason, beyond himself.