Chapter Twenty

Advancing up the stairs with as much subtlety as he could muster, Christian paused on the landing. A long hall stretched in each direction, and he did not know which way he should go.

He set his jaw, his ears tuned to the activity below him. He trod on dangerous ground, and only the threat of ruination propelled him forward into Campbell House’s private quarters.

Memories of Flora’s melody-like laugh assaulted him. The way her lovely green eyes softened whenever Asad bumped his head into her side as he begged for just one more apple. The low moan she made as she undulated, wrapping her legs about his hips, sharing all of herself with him as they made love. He clamped his teeth. He needed to hear her explanation from her own lips.

After trying several doors and finding the rooms empty, he came to the final door and noticed it wasn’t latched. Inhaling, he nudged it open. Peering around the wood, he glimpsed Flora standing at the window, looking down on the dimly lit gardens below.

Shutting the door silently, he finally voiced the question sitting on his tongue all night. “Why did you not tell me?”

She spun around in a cloud of red silk, her cheeks pale. She gaped at him before she visibly re-gathered her poise. “Tell you that I am really the daughter of a duke? Yes, I’m sure you would have allowed me to ride Asad if you knew I was titled Lady Flora Campbell.”

“I certainly would not have fucked you from behind like a stallion with a mare in estrus.”

He meant to shock her. To throw her as off-balance as she had thrown him. And while her voice remained steady, Christian did not miss the flush that crept up her chest and to her cheeks.

“That would have been a pity.” Her pink tongue ran along her bottom lip. “I enjoyed that position.”

Her words sent heat straight to his groin and he struggled not to respond. He knew she meant to shame him for his crude remark, but he did not feel shame. Instead, he felt all-consuming desire.

Which would not do.

With a growl, he advanced across the room toward her. He observed in satisfaction as her pulse raced at the base of her throat.

“I did not know you would be here.”

“And that somehow excuses you from revealing your true identity to me?” he asked as he reached for her, running his hand into her hair and mussing her curls. Pins fell free and pinged satisfyingly to the floor as lush, sweet-smelling black tresses fell to her shoulders and enveloped him in memories. He dipped her head to inhale her essence, pressing kisses to the side of her neck and jaw.

“I could not take the chance.” She tilted her head to the side, granting him greater access. “Working at Amstead Gardens is so important to me, and you almost sent me away once.”

“Trusting you is important to me, even if you have hijacked all my good sense.” He dragged her scent into his lungs, his eyes damn near rolling back into his head at the passions it invoked.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, pressing her cheek to his, her hand clutched to his shirt front. “I should have trusted you. I wanted to. But I was afraid.”

He knew what that confession had cost her, and an ache spread in his chest. His brave, fierce Flora had shown him repeatedly she was not afraid of anything, and yet confessing her true identity to him frightened her.

Christian clutched her about the waist and pulled her close to his body. He longed to bundle her in his arms and escape back to Amstead Gardens where their world consisted of the two of them. And the horses. Where they laughed and played and indulged in their passion for one another.

But the outside world was threatening her and the Gardens, and they needed to act to ensure all was well. He had worked too hard to secure the future of the estate, the future of the Andrews name and the marquessate, to have it pulled into such a scandalous mire.

Being Amstead meant doing difficult things, and, while marriage to Flora was no burden, he feared she would not see it as such.

Reluctantly, he took a step back. She looked up at him, her hands still twined in his dress coat and her gaze questioning.

“I hope you can trust me now, because we have been discovered.”

All color seeped from her face. “What do you mean?”

“Lady Hightower knows, Flora. She knows you’re William.”

…

A ringing sounded sharply in Flora’s ears, and she flinched from the noise.

She had been alarmed when Christian had suddenly appeared in her chamber, his expression one of anger and retribution. But despite his hard words, his voice had been filled with a deep hurt and she crumbled inside knowing she had hurt him so terribly.

Now, her insides felt as if they had been frozen—in terror, in confusion, in dread.

“B-but,” she licked her lips. “How is that possible?”

“Just because I did not recognize you were a woman does not mean everyone is so easily fooled. The Duchess of Claremore has known you were a woman, and your true identity, this whole time,” he pointed out.

Heat stealing over her cheeks, Flora dropped her gaze. “I know. She told me as much earlier in the evening.”

“We can’t expect everyone who deciphers the truth to be as circumspect as Her Grace.” Christian dragged a heavy hand through his hair. “Or every investor to be as understanding.”

“What does Lady Hightower want?” she asked softly, steeling her spine for the truth.

“Regina wants to be Lady Amstead.”

Flora gasped before pressing a quieting hand to her mouth. No expression lay on Christian’s face, yet she felt the anger and frustration wafting off him in waves.

“I’ve always known that Regina harbored a desire for marriage, but throughout our affair, I was very clear that my responsibility was to the racing farm.” He shrugged, his broad shoulders straining the seams of his coat. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that this would be the price she would demand for her silence.”

“What are you going to do?” she forced out, her mouth dry.

Christian propped a hip on her bed, his gaze fixated on her counterpane. “Well, I’m not going to marry her, that’s for certain.”

Her chin jerked back. “You’re not?” Her traitorous heart squeezed to hear it.

He scowled. “Of course not. I’m not going to be blackmailed into an ill-wanted marriage.” Christian met her gaze then, his brown eyes fierce. “Plus, I hope to marry someone else.”

The look on his face was how she imagined Adam appeared before taking a bite of the apple. It stole her breath.

“Marry me.”

Flora blinked. “I beg your—”

“Marry me.” He grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers so tight they hurt.

“But…” She licked her lips. “You don’t want to marry me.”

His jaw hardened. “Yes. I do.”

“Why did you not ask me before? When you were naive of my title?”

His skin grew flushed and he dropped his gaze. “What do you want me to say? That I couldn’t marry you when I thought you were beneath my station? That I am trying to rebuild my stables and if word got out that I have been dallying with a lady—and Lord Inverray’s sister to boot—I would be ruined?”

“And I wouldn’t be?” she growled.

“Would you even care if you were?” He crossed his arms over his chest. The chest she had just run her hands up, scoring his skin with her nails. “Would you not welcome an excuse for Inverray to send you back to Scotland? It is not as though you care about your reputation, for why else would you be so careless with it?”

Pressing her lips into a mulish line, she raised a finger. “I may not care about my reputation, but I care about Niall’s. And my sister’s and Ashwood’s.”

“And what of mine?” His voice was low. Monotone. It made the hair stand up on her arms. “Did you consider my reputation at all?”

Of course she had…but it had never been her primary concern. Even as she had toiled alongside her fellow employees at Amstead Gardens or stolen away with their master for interludes of lovemaking, her concerns for Christian and the Gardens had been secondary.

She was a selfish fool.

“By your silence, I assume the answer is no.” He grunted. “Can you truly blame me for seeing marriage as a defense?”

She couldn’t. It made sense. But she’d be damned if she admitted it.

“If I’m to marry, it will not be to stave off scandal.” She thrust up her chin. “The ton has whispered all sorts of lies and exaggerations about me. I’ve been called uncouth. Fast. A scandalous lady. I have never been afraid of the whispers, and I have no desire to tame them now at the risk of my potential husband’s respect and goodwill.”

“So your whims are more valuable than the Gardens?” He slashed his hand through the air. “Than my potential ruination?”

Sadness clogged her throat. “You had no problem ruining me when you did not think me a lady. Now suddenly you ask me to consider reputations when you never once considered mine?”

A gale of emotions darkened his expression but, just as he was to respond, her bedroom door flew open, the heavy wood causing a thudding sound to echo around the chamber.

Niall stood inside the frame. “What are you doing in here, Amstead?” His voice was low and flinty. Menacing.

She looked to Christian, panic sweeping away her thoughts. He stared back at her, his irises large.

Stepping into the room, Niall shut the door and leaned back on it, his gaze swinging between them “It’s true, then.”

“What’s true?” She shook her head in confusion.

“Lady Hightower mentioned how much you looked like an employee at Amstead Gardens. A young man who is a trainer in the stables.” He pinned her with a black glower. “If you hadn’t mentioned Amstead’s horses before, and I hadn’t known what ridiculous larks you’re capable of, I never would have entertained the idea that you would engage in such subterfuge. But it was you, was it not?”

Unable to think of an excuse, she wrapped her arms around her waist and turned away. Grief and impotent anger coalesced in her chest, and she clenched her jaw and willed herself to contain her emotions.

“How could you do this? This whole time I thought you were in Yorkshire, but instead you were in Suffolk.” Niall’s voice reverberated with anger as he turned to Christian. “Did you know?”

Christian scowled. “Not at first.”

“And how is that? How was she able to deceive you?”

His reed-colored gaze was hooded. “I knew her as William Grant. She dressed as a young man and saw to her duties, so I did not look closely. She was just another employee.”

“Until she wasn’t.” Niall glared. “How did you determine her true identity?”

Christian exhaled. “I discovered she was a woman a couple of months ago. However, I did not learn that she was a lady until you introduced us earlier this evening.”

Relief swamped Flora at Christian’s explanation, thankful that he did not divulge how he had discovered her at the pond. Her brother would be apoplectic. More so.

“But what occurred when you learned she was a woman?” Niall took a determined step toward Christian, his arms stiff at his sides. “What happened then?”

Flora held her breath, but whatever he saw on Christian’s face had him emitting a low growl and a string of curses.

“You will marry her.”

“I asked her before you entered.”

“No!” she exclaimed, her voice loud in the room.

“Damn it, Flora! How can you possibly say no?” Her brother ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He was usually so composed, so controlled in all things. To see him so emotional, so angry, made her heart race with alarm. “You have been compromised. If anyone discovers where you have been these last months, let alone the affair you have carried on with Amstead, you would be completely ruined.”

“Come now, Niall, let us be honest—”

“Oh, now you want to be honest?” His lip pressed into a firm line. “When it suits you?”

The words were like a knife flaying her skin, and she winced. “Do not pretend this isn’t a perfect excuse to send me back to Scotland. If I’m at Loch Kilmorow, I cannot hurt your campaign for Prime Minister.”

Niall staggered back a step. “Do you really believe me so heartless? That I would be more concerned about my damned campaign than I would about my sister’s future?”

“Yes! For the last few months, I have been living the life I have always wanted.” She took a step toward him, her fists curled as if she could make him understand the importance of her words. “You know how much I have wanted to work with racehorses. You know I’m only happy if I’m on the back of a horse. Yet you have insisted I play the part of a lady, and I have. I have done everything you ever asked of me, but it was never enough for you. I have never been enough. Well, I finally had an opportunity to do something for myself, and I did it.” She looked between Niall and Christian, the fire of indignation raging in her chest threatening to choke her voice. “I did not ask for permission, from either of you, because I do not need it. I am a grown woman with a clever head on my shoulders, and I did not, and do not, require your approval to do what I want with my life.”

Swallowing, she knotted her hands together at her waist. “I understand if I need to return to Scotland. I have no desire to involve Lord Amstead or the Gardens in scandal, especially before the Guineas.” She studied her fingers. “And I would never dream of hurting your campaign, Niall. I know how hard you have worked, and the people of Scotland and England would be lucky indeed if you were Prime Minister.”

She finally dragged her gaze up. Niall stared at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. She was not brave enough to glance at Christian.

“I suspect it’s a little too late to worry about scandal, and you escaping to Scotland will not make this right.” Niall stopped before her, his voice firm. “You must marry.”

Flora blinked, alarmed when she saw her brother look to Christian, who nodded his head. “I can’t marry him!”

“Why not?”

Shaking her head, she turned to the door, desperate to escape.

Christian grabbed her hand, his expression blank as he linked their fingers together. His were ice cold. “You were happy enough to carry on an affair with me, but you balk at the idea of marrying me?”

“That’s not it.” Flora extracted her hand from his grasp and pressed her fingers to her temples. “It is just…I had my own plans. Neither of you have ever asked me what I want to do with my life. I know you expect me to marry and have children,” she said, thrusting her chin in Niall’s direction, “but I have never envisioned that future for myself. And now you want me to marry a man who did not want to marry me yesterday but does today because he knows I’m a lady. Because I am a preferable alternative to the blackmail bride he’s threatened with. Why must my life always be determined by the whims of men?”

Her voice had become a squeak, the sound causing her pulse to race like an out-of-control stallion. Apparently she was not the only one who noticed her uncharacteristic panic, for Niall approached her, his gray eyes soft. “Flo, there is no other choice.”

“There is always another choice, Niall! Or is it only men who are allowed to choose?”

He visibly ground his teeth together but held his tongue.

“Flora, you know what is at stake for Amstead Gardens. For Asad.” Christian considered her with fiery eyes, even as his voice remained even. “If Lady Hightower were to make good on her threat, it would roar like a wildfire through the ton. All the investors I have managed to attract could pull their support from the Gardens and I would be destroyed.” He ran his fingers down her arm before clasping her wrist. “I understand that you did not want to hurt anyone when you applied for the position as a trainer, but your intentions do not matter now. Marriage is our best defense.”

His hand felt like a manacle.

God, how had things come to this? She had simply wanted to learn from the Marquess of Amstead and his new Egyptian trainer. No one was supposed to be hurt. No one was supposed to know. Her disguise was meant to keep her safe.

But here she stood in her chamber, in a face-off with her brother and her lover over the rest of her life. Her gaze fell on Christian and roved over him with hungry intensity.

She had never thought it possible that she would meet a man whom she could not only respect and admire, but also desire and crave. He challenged her and made her feel that her opinion mattered. He made her feel as if she were more than the sum of her title, fortune, and pretty face. And yet, he only asked her to marry him when he learned of her title and connections…just like all the other gentlemen she had met throughout her Seasons.

A sudden burst of distant laughter startled her, and she was reminded that, while a gay party was being celebrated downstairs, her heart was crumbling to ash upstairs.

Perhaps there was hope for them. Steadying herself, Flora crossed her arms over her chest and dug her nails into her biceps. “If I consent to marry you, do I have leave to continue my work with the horses? Will you allow me to participate in the training and exercise of Asad and Kadar and the rest of the string?”

Christian widened his stance, his voice firm. “You would be the Marchioness of Amstead. It would not do to have the lady of the estate mucking about in the paddocks where any sort of accident could maim her.”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, and she squeezed her body tighter to protect herself from the blow.

A strained silence descended as Flora tried to will herself not to weep in front of him. But he must have read something in her expression, because his nostrils flared. Swinging round to Niall, he extended a hand. “I thank you for the invitation tonight, but I fear I must depart. If you find you are still interested in seeing Asad race at the Guineas, please have your secretary contact mine, and I will have box tickets sent over directly.”

Niall pulled his head back. “You’re leaving? But she has not given you an answer.”

“Oh, but she has. Her face has told me everything I need to know.” His tone was perfectly cordial, but each word was an assassin.

“Amstead, give her some time to decide. No doubt emotions are high this evening, and I am certain that she would benefit from some time and space.”

“No.” The word fell from Christian’s lips with stark finality. “If she cannot see how our marriage would be the best avenue for all of us, I do not want her. How could I possibly marry a woman who would so carelessly engage in activities that could hurt my livelihood and then turn her nose up at the solutions? Because her actions are not just a threat to you or me, my lord. Flora has threatened the livelihood of every person who depends upon Amstead Gardens. What sort of marquess would I be if I not only kept such a person at the Gardens, but made her its mistress?”

Flora did not hear Niall’s response over the thundering of her heart. She watched helplessly as Christian opened the door and slipped out, closing it soundlessly behind him. She stared at it for what felt like hours, unaware of anything until she felt Niall cradle her chin in his hands, his face taut with worry.

“Flo, please tell me you are all right?”

A strangled laugh burst from her mouth, and she slapped a hand over it. When she was certain she would not laugh again, she finally said, “Of course I’m not all right. But then, do I really deserve to be?”