7

Two minutes later Miles stood before her. He was somewhat disheveled, his thick, graying hair tousled, his brows knit, and his lips tight. The lines around his mouth seemed to be etched more deeply than before, and there were circles under his eyes. The man looked as if he hadn’t slept for days. It was true, then, as her mother had hinted, that he’d stayed awake during all the hours she’d been sleeping, worrying about her. How kind of him! He was such a loyal friend; he did not deserve to be used as she’d used him.

She managed a hesitant smile. “Hello, Miles,” she said softly.

He did not smile back, but his eyes made a close examination of her face. “So you are better,” he said gruffly. “You almost look like your old self. I’m much relieved.”

“Thank you. You are kind to be concerned.”

“I am not kind,” he declared, coming to the foot of the bed and glaring down at her. “Now that I see you almost restored to health, I would like very much to wring your neck! Whatever did you mean by making Julian believe you and I are secret lovers?”

Elinor swallowed. “I must say, Miles, you don’t mince words. Are you very angry?”

“That depends. Why did you do it?”

“I don’t quite know. I had to conjure up a beau to convince Julian to agree to break our troth, and your name was the first to come to my mind.” She twisted the edge of her blanket with nervous fingers. “Did you tell him it was a lie?”

“No. Since you are not usually given to falsehoods, I knew you must have had a reason, so I waited to speak to you.” He walked slowly round to her side and looked down at her. “Why did you wish to break your troth, Elinor? Don’t you care for Julian anymore?”

“He doesn’t care for me. I’ve grown too old for him.”

“Old? What utter balderdash!” His eyes darkened in fury. “Did he say that?”

“Almost in those words. He’s taken with Felicia, you see, who seems to him a younger version of the girl I once was. But his sense of honor made him unwilling to accept the freedom I offered him, so, to relieve his guilt, I said I loved another.”

“Me.”

“Yes.”

“I see.” He turned to the fireplace and stared down at the glowing coals. “He must have found that a ludicrous choice for you to make,” he remarked dryly.

“Why ludicrous?”

“I’m too old for you, for one thing. You’ve always thought of me as an uncle.”

“You’re only thirty-six, Miles. Not quite an ancient.”

“Thirty-seven. And much too old to enjoy this sort of game.” He punctuated his statement by kicking angrily at the coals with the toe of his boot, sending up a shower of sparks.

Elinor felt her throat tighten with tears. “I’m s-sorry, Miles. I was very … foolish.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “very.” With an effort he turned away from the fire and came back to her bedside. He stood silent for a moment, looking down at her. Then, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if massaging away a headache, he sighed deeply. “I’d prefer it, Elinor, if the fellow knew the truth. With your permission I’ll tell him this afternoon.”

“Yes, of course,” she said in a small voice. “If you must.”

“Of course I must,” he snapped, suddenly angry. “What else is there to do?”

“There is another option.”

“What option?”

She lowered her head. “I’m afraid to suggest it to you.”

“Have I suddenly become an ogre? Suggest it!”

She eyed him with wary unease. There followed an awkward pause. At last she said hesitantly, “We could keep up the pretense.”

His black eyebrows rose. “You can’t mean it! What on earth for?”

She looked down at the bit of blanket she was twisting between her fingers. “I’m afraid Julian may insist on wedding me after all, if he believes me to be … unattached.”

“What’s wrong with his wedding you? Didn’t you say, not a moment ago, that you still care for the deuced dunderhead?”

“Not enough to wish to wed him if he feels reluctant.”

“Damn his reluctance!” Miles stomped back and forth across the room to ease his disgust. “And as for you,” he growled, turning on her, “you are speaking sentimental claptrap. If you care for him, marry him! No man with a grain of sense could fail to see what a prize you are. The fellow’s a gudgeon, but not such a gudgeon that he wouldn’t think himself the luckiest man alive after a mere month … a week—no, a day!—of being wedded to you.”

“Oh, Miles!” His words took her breath away. For a moment she gazed up at him awestruck. Then, afraid to take him too seriously, she lowered her lids and smiled wryly. “Spoken like the fond uncle you are,” she said lightly. “It’s too bad Julian can’t look at me with an uncle’s eyes.”

“I wish you’d remember, Elinor Selby,” Miles snarled, “that I’m not your uncle, either.”

“Nevertheless, Miles, since Julian does not see me in that way, I’d rather not wed him.” She sat erect and peered at the stern-faced squire curiously. “Would it be so hard to pretend to be in love with me? It would only be for a few days.”

“Hard?” His dark eyes glittered in sardonic amusement. “No, my dear, not hard. Impossible.”

His tone, self-deprecating and bitter, confused her. “But why?”

“Why? Why?” He laughed and shook his head. “Can you truly be so damnably, naively blind? This is why!” And he reached down, pulled her up on her knees, and into his arms.

To her complete astonishment she found herself being passionately kissed. Her bewilderment was so encompassing that it utterly froze her thoughts. She could only feel—the bruising pressure of his lips, the grip of his arms against her back, the pinching pain on her breasts of the buttons of his coat. That was all she was conscious of. Yet she had a sense that there was more to her feelings than the pressure of buttons—that there were stirrings so deep inside her she could not for the moment fathom them. But before she could begin to get hold of herself, before she could even make herself think, he lifted his head. “There!” he muttered. “I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

“Miles,” she gasped, still befuddled, “you’ll catch my cold!”

He burst into a startled laugh. Then, eyeing her as if he didn’t know quite what to do with her, he shook his head, swore “Damnation!” and kissed her again.

Though still astonished, Elinor’s brain came whirling to life. What was the meaning of this? it asked her. And why was her pulse pounding so hard in her ears? Moreover, a stern voice at the back of her mind demanded to know if she realized that she was wearing nothing but a thin shift … that, while almost naked, she was being enveloped in a man’s arms and not doing a thing to drive him off?

As if he’d heard the same question, he let her go. They stared at each other for a moment, catching their breaths. Then Elinor, without taking her wide-eyed gaze from his face, slipped down under her blankets and drew them up to her neck. “Good God!” she breathed in a hoarse whisper.

“I’m not going to apologize,” Miles said in his normal, reproving voice. “You deserved that.”

“I did?”

“Yes. For your willful ignorance.”

“My ignorance was not willful,” she retorted. “And I’m still ignorant. What did you mean by that, pray?”

“If you can’t guess, I shan’t tell you. However, I admit that I played the fool just now. You have my word I won’t do so again.” Without further ado, he strode out the door and slammed it behind him.

Elinor lay against the pillows, staring at the door, the fingers of one hand pressed against her mouth (where she could still feel the pressure of his lips) and the other against her breast (where she could still feel the mark of his buttons). The message he’d given her was quite clear: He loved her. Miles Endicott loved her! Miles, the squire of the neighborhood, to whom everyone for miles around turned for advice or assistance when in trouble. But the idea was impossible. Ridiculous. He couldn’t really love her! He was the kindest, wisest, most generous man in the world, and in recent years he’d been, even more than her mother, the person to whom she’d confided her feelings. In truth, he was her best friend. But he’d always kept an avuncular distance between them. She’d always thought of him as a superior being, too superior even to be considered as a suitor. Above her touch, as a Londoner might put it. The idea that he could love her was too flattering to be believed!

She slipped out of bed and pattered barefoot across the floor to her dressing table. Sitting down, she peered at her face in the glass. Was this the face that Miles Endicott loved? Her cheeks were flushed, though not from fever, her eyes were shining, her tousled hair seemed electrically alive, and her lips were full and red from their bruising. Heavens, she thought, amazed, can it be that there is something beautiful about me after all?

There was a tap at the door. Her mother was back with the soup, she thought. “Come in, Mama,” she said.

“It’s not Mama,” Miles said, coming in.

She wheeled around. “M-Miles!”

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

She gaped at him stupidly. “Do it?”

“I’ll act the lover role for you. Just tell me what you want me to do.”