A Lady for Lord Randall (Brides of Waterloo)

‘Why not?’ She sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her nakedness ‘I knew the risk I was running when I decided to remain in Brussels. Do not think I blame you for it.’

‘But I blame myself.’ He had picked up his shirt but now he cast it aside and sat on the edge of the bed. He took her by the shoulders. ‘Mary, I know we discussed it, that you wanted this as much as I, but what you told me of your sister—’

She put her fingers to his lips, smiling lovingly into his face.

‘I am not Jane and you have never deceived me. I know we must part and I am prepared for that.’

Randall shook his head.

‘This is madness, Mary. We have let our passions run away with us.’

‘Not quite.’ She tried to speak lightly. ‘You have behaved most responsibly by me.’

He did not smile. ‘Not responsibly enough. I should have resisted.’

Even in the gloom Randall saw the pain flare in her eyes and he quickly drew her into his arms.

‘Ah, love, I did not mean to hurt you.’ She trembled against him and he dropped a kiss on to her curls, disordered from sleep and their lovemaking. ‘These past weeks have been the happiest of my life.’

‘But you would rather they had not happened.’

‘No!’ He let her go and turned away, saying in a low voice, ‘You mean more to me than life itself, Mary, but we should stop now, before I hurt you.’

‘You won’t hurt me

, Randall.’

‘Not yet, perhaps, but I will, Mary. Given time what I feel for you will fade and I shall play you false.’

‘You cannot know that.’

‘I can, because it has happened before.’ His hands gripped the edge of the bed on either side of him and he stared out of the window at the breaking dawn. He needed to explain.

‘I was a young captain, spending my leave at Latymor House in London. It was one of the few times my parents were there together. They had decided it was time I should marry and arranged a match for me with one of Viscount Loxton’s daughters.’ He gave a little grunt of disgust. ‘Any of his daughters, I could take my pick of ’em, they were all for sale to the highest bidder. I shied away from that. I had the notion that I should marry for love.’ He paused, letting his mind travel back to those heady days. He had been such a callow youth. ‘Then I met the contessa. Teresa Carlotta di Rimini. She was a widow, beautiful, dark and exotic. I could not resist her. Within the week we became lovers.’ He rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I thought it was love and asked her to marry me. I promised to quit the military because she did not wish to follow the drum. I thought I was the luckiest dog alive. Then one day I called upon her unexpectedly and found another man in her bed.’

He heard Mary’s soft gasp, felt her sympathy, but he could not stop now. She deserved to know everything.

‘He was not the only one. I discovered she had been sharing her favours with several other men in London, including my father.’

‘Oh, Randall!’

‘I ended it as quickly as possible and paid handsomely for her silence. She had threatened to sue for breach of promise and what defence could I offer? I could not have all the sordid details dragged through the courts.

‘My father...’ Randall’s lip curled ‘...my father laughed. He thought it a good joke. He told me I was most definitely his son. “Do not worry,” he said to me. “Latymors are not made to be faithful. In a year from now you will have forgotten her.” And do you know the worst part of it? He was right. I had a succession of brief, heady affairs and soon realised I felt nothing for the contessa. Nor has my interest in any woman since lasted more than a few months. So you see, Mary, I cannot promise fidelity, I am incapable of a lasting passion. It has never worried me. I made up my mind I would never marry, never ask any woman to suffer as my mother has done.’

Mary listened in silence, her heart going out to him. She put her hand on his bare shoulder, aware of the faint roughness of the scars beneath her fingers.

‘You were a young man then, Justin, little more than a boy.’

‘That does not excuse my behaviour.’

‘You fell in love with an experienced older woman who treated you shamefully. It is no wonder if you went a little wild. The fact that since then you have never allowed yourself to trifle with a respectable woman, that you have done your best to avoid raising false hopes, is not the behaviour of a philanderer.’ Her hands slid over his shoulders and she pressed her naked form against his bare back, willing him to take comfort from her. ‘You are not your father, Randall.’

‘You are being very kind.’

‘Kind!’ She sat back, pulling at him until he turned to face her. ‘I am telling you what I see. If you were truly a libertine, do you think you would be telling me all this? You would take your pleasures and leave me to suffer any consequences. Instead of that you wish to leave me, when we might have a few more days together.’ She cupped his face in her hands and stared up into his sombre, brooding face. ‘Is that what you want, Randall?’

His hands slid up her arms until they were resting on her shoulders.