“What?”
Henry winced. She had squealed into his bad ear but he still heard her too loud and clear.
“I am a gentleman, Rachel, and you, no matter how much you deny it, are a lady. Respectable. A gentleman doesn’t take his pleasure with a lady unless he has honorable intentions.”
She wriggled beneath him, causing his cock to twitch further. “Don’t be an ass.”
He knew she would fight him on this; she had fought him on everything with the exception of the glorious time they had just spent in his bed. It hadn’t been long enough, either. When they married they might spend days in bed. Weeks.
“I proposed to you within minutes of meeting you, didn’t I? I might not have meant it then, but I do now.”
She opened her mouth and he decided to kiss her again to shut her up. When he’d finished and she was dazed and tingling, he continued, having lost a little of his focus himself.
“I know all your objections. Puddling is important to you and your father, and I swear I’ll work a way around our difficulties. When it comes to my father, what more can he do to me?”
“He can shut you away!” she said, angry. “I heard him this morning, Henry. He’s not a man to be trifled with.”
“He wouldn’t do that to his heir. He values the Challoner family name too much. How mortifying it would be to have it known that his son is a lunatic. That sort of thing can be inherited, you know. It would reflect badly on him, and the pater’s much too full of pride to put up with any scurrilous gossip. I have my own money, you know. I can get us a house in the country somewhere and we can live as we please.”
Nothing too grand. Henry had come to appreciate the simpler things in life since he came to Puddling. How many bedrooms might they need? How many children would they have?
Rachel would be good with children, no matter how many they had. If she could corral a classroom full of them, a mere half-dozen would be child’s play. But he wouldn’t want to wear her out. He was a modern man, and didn’t expect his wife to be a drudge.
“What on earth are you thinking of? You have the oddest expression on your face. But then, you are odd.”
My, she sounded cross. This was not how she should be feeling after such a delightful encounter. More than delightful. Henry thought the top of his head might blow off at the end.
“Right at the moment? Real estate, my dear.”
She pushed her hair from her face and tried to slide out from under him. Henry had no intention of letting her loose and gripped her white shoulders, then kissed them. Were shoulders an erogenous zone for her? He threw himself into the inquiry. Rachel squirmed and sighed. Apparently they were.
And then she pinched him. Not too hard, but just enough to get his attention. “Henry, let’s be realistic here. As much as I, as we...” She stopped, her eyebrows scrunching. How adorable she was. “I won’t deny that this was extraordinary this afternoon. It’s left me…breathless. But it cannot happen again, and we will not be needing to buy a house.”
“Let’s not argue. It might bring on a relapse.” He rolled off and curled her toward him, feeling the beat of her erratic heart. He was breathless, too.
“Are you ever serious?”
“Not if I can help it. Really, Rachel, why go through life all doomy and gloomy? Believe me, I’ve seen my share of unpleasantness. That’s what I was trying to forget, only I went about it all the wrong way. The pater was right to send me here, for here you are.”
“I’m not your cure, Henry.”
“Oh, aren’t you?”
Rachel struggled to sit up. “A new person can’t change what’s wrong inside you. You overindulged for a reason. If there’s anything I’ve learned living in Puddling, it’s that change comes from within, and you have to want it for you. I’m…superficial to you. What if you hadn’t met me?”
“But I did!” Henry objected.
“But if you hadn’t, wouldn’t you still be asking the shopkeepers to sneak you some alcoholic spirits? Looking for young women to seduce? Chafing at all the restrictions?”
Would he? Very possibly.
“Are you saying I’m weak?” His father had certainly thought so.
“We’re all weak, Henry. I can’t pretend to know what you went through, or how I would have responded in your place. But what if something awful happens again? Suppose someone you love, God forbid, dies, or you lose your fortune through bad investments? You’ll need inner resources—yes, of course you can depend on friends for support, but you must first and foremost rely on yourself. Clouding your senses only dulls and then prolongs the pain.”
She sounded very much like old Vincent. They’d all been fed the same Puddling Principles—there was probably a primer somewhere that all local children learned along with their ABCs.
He nodded. “I know you’re right. I’ve tried to change. I think I have.” He’d had that idea about a soldiers’ retreat, hadn’t he? He was prepared to put his own funds into the scheme. And he’d not touched any of the vicar’s liquor stash, had not even taken advantage when the man was so deep in his cups he wouldn’t have known the difference. That said something about Henry’s sobriety, surely.
He could manage his life. Find a purpose. But it would be so much better with Rachel by his side.
He couldn’t blame her for doubting. He was only at the midpoint of his Puddling stay.
Which gave him two more weeks to convince her she was not just any port in his storm.
“So you understand then.”
“You’re not ready for me. I respect your feelings, but I don’t like them.”
She bit a lip. They were already pink and swollen, and Henry could hardly bear looking at them without acting on his desire.
“I’m not ever going to be ready for you, Henry. When you leave, I’m sure you’ll find someone more suitable. You are—you are handsome and rich. The world is your oyster.”
Henry had never understood that expression either. What had shellfish got to do with anything? Who wanted to climb into a slimy mollusk?
“So, we’re at an impasse. Again. I’m very grateful you gave me this past hour, Rachel. It was the most perfect afternoon of my life so far.”
She gave him a sad smile. “So far. See? The best is yet to come.”
“One can only hope. Are you all right? Let me fetch some water and a cloth.”
“I’ll do it.” With remarkable grace, she rose from the bed and headed to his bathroom. She walked away as proudly as a queen, as if she marched around in her spectacular nudity all the time.
Henry lay back and stared at the ceiling. He had his work cut out for him on so many fronts. But he’d never shied away from a challenge, no matter how much his challenge shied away from him.
Rachel returned, her dark cloud of hair twisted back up. She gathered up her clothing and began to dress without speaking. She didn’t need his help for her corset—of course she didn’t. She did for herself every day. It was not long before she looked as respectable as any other church-going miss.
“There is supper for you in the kitchen,” she said, her voice strained.
“Thank you. You shouldn’t have.” Henry wasn’t hungry at all, his mind whirring with too many possibilities.
“Mrs. Grace should be back tomorrow. Maybe even tonight.”
Oh, joy.
“I’m fine. Much better. You needn’t worry. If I need anything, I can summon my father from Sykes House.” Henry tried to imagine his father in a kitchen and failed.
And he really was feeling better. Rachel was like a cure, even if she didn’t want to be.
“Will I see you again?”
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be wise. Your father—”
“Blast my father! I want to see you. We don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to.”
“Want has nothing to do with it. Of course one would want it.”
So, there was a sliver of hope. She wasn’t entirely cold to him even if she was trying to guard her heart.
Henry’s own heart felt open for the first time in his life. It hurt to feel, he realized. It was worse than when his foot was almost shot off. He had more in common with old Vincent than he realized. The two of them were goners.
From somewhere below, Rufus barked, protecting his mistress. Too late. Henry could only be grateful the dog was not inside chewing off his good foot in retaliation for what he had just done.