* * *
‘I am sorry, that should not have happened,’ Ivo apologised. ‘I am afraid my feelings got the better of me.’ Something certainly had and he was not sure what it was. Desire, obviously, but there was more than that. Jane had looked content, happy, pleased to see him and walking into that steamy laundry room had felt for a second like coming home, which was ridiculous.
And then the deliciously damp and disorderly look of her, rosy and round and perfect. And her response. Even thinking about that breathy ‘Ivo... Yes’ made him hard all over again. But it hadn’t been that kiss or the feel of her soft and urgent under him, the promise of the heat between her thighs, that was making him feel so off balance. It was the laughter. Sharing that laughter with her, that moment when they were hiding like two naughty children and both of them had reacted in exactly the same way.
Now Jane was frowning at him, all laughter gone. ‘What was wrong with it? I mean, we could have chosen a better place, somewhere that didn’t have the staff walking in every few minutes, but...’ She seemed to realise what she was saying, blushed, then carried on stubbornly. ‘I liked it, you making love to me. I did not want you to stop, although I know you had to because it would have been embarrassing.’
Ivo was conscious of the scent of the last late roses, of the soft green grass all around them, of the high, concealing hedges, of Jane
, still flushed and deliciously flustered and wishing they had not stopped—and all he had to do was take two steps and she would be in his arms and... And then a gardener would come in and start pruning, or shovelling manure on the beds or...
Oh, God, beds. Think about manure, he told himself desperately.
‘You are a respectable lady. I should not be debauching you on the laundry room table. We are not married yet.’
‘We are going to be,’ Jane pointed out.
‘Yes. In a while. Do you not want to wait until your wedding night?’
Jane broke off a rose and twirled it under her nose thoughtfully. ‘Not particularly. I mean, you are not going to decide not to marry me just because you’ve already...’ She seemed to be searching for the right phrase, then left it hanging. ‘It always seems as though one has to wait because otherwise the woman might change her mind having tried it. Not that I am going to change my mind.’ She smiled at him. ‘I think I am going to enjoy...being with you.’
‘So am I,’ Ivo said, realising that he meant it. ‘And not only the bedchamber parts,’ he added, just for the pleasure of seeing her blush. ‘It is a long time since I laughed about something like that.’
‘Like that?’ Her eyebrows shot up and she grinned at him.
‘Something ludicrous. And you have to admit, the pair of us hiding from our own staff, caught like young lovers sneaking off to misbehave in the haystack, is certainly lacking in dignity.’
He sat down on one of the carved stone benches and she came and sat beside him, then lifted her feet on to the seat and leaned back against his shoulder. ‘Nice,’ she murmured and then was silent.
Ivo probed the thought that he should not feel like this, not when he loved Daphne. But he owed Jane his affection and his thoughts because she was going to be his wife. Daphne was lost to him, of her own free will, and for the first time he felt not pity and anxiety, but the stirrings of anger. If she had been unhappy, why had she not written to tell him so and ask to be released from the engagement? As a gentleman he would have had no hesitation in agreeing, however much it hurt.
He shifted on the seat so that Jane could lean more comfortably against him and put his arm around her. Somehow he could not imagine Jane failing to tell him just what she thought and felt.
Chapter Sixteen
4th October
Dearest Verity,
The Dress was delivered today! It still needs some alterations, but I cannot believe how elegant I look in it.
It is of white silk with fine gold embroidery down the front and around the hem and the neckline.
Lord Westhaven has insisted that I wear the most exquisite parure of diamonds and emeralds—there is a tiara and a necklace and earrings and bracelets. I tried to say that it was too valuable, but he says it will be mine to wear when Ivo and I are married, as will all the other jewels in the family collection, which is even more terrifying.
Did I tell you that my ‘diamonds’ are paste? Goodness knows who sold the real ones—I suspect Grandmama.
Only two weeks and you and the others will be here and then I will be married. It seems that I cannot wait—and yet I am so frightened I wish time stood still.
I am falling in love with Ivo. I never expected to. I never meant to. And he loves Daphne still, I am certain. Sometimes he is so quiet, withdrawn inside himself, and I am convinced he is thinking about her.
I want to take a hammer and go back to the hermitage and smash the inscription I told you about, but then he would know that I know... And I want to hate her and I try so hard not to because that can help none of us.
6th October
Darling Jane,
He will come to love you—how could any man who is not a fool fail to once he is married to you? And you would not love a fool, so it is certain. Although I have to warn you, it might take a while before he realises it—men are not naturally talented at examining their feelings.