She half turned to look, and then remembered. She blushed. “Yes, well, I was very badly behaved that night. I’m sorry.”
He laughed. Her dimple gave her away every time. “I’m not. You were clever and cheeky and gorgeous and so determined to drive me away, it made me want to get to know you better.”
She grimaced. “And then you found out who I really was, the daughter of a blackmailing scoundrel.”
“Will you stop saying that,” he snapped. “You arenotyour father, and I don’t want to hear that nonsense ever again.”
Their eyes met for a long, intense moment. Then a cow mooed and broke the silence.
“I might not be like my father, but that doesn’t mean I’ll fit into your society. Your mother hates me.”
“She hates everyone. My grandmother will adore you.”
She shook her head. “Not if she knows the truth. I’msorry Gerald. I know you think it would work, but I know that if I married you, I would end up getting things wrong and embarrassing you—and myself. And Irefuseto be looked down on!”
“How do you know you will?”
“Because I always have been. My education is scrappy—I attended five different schools and never finished the year at any of them. I never did learn all the ladylike skills, and when people look down on me and try to make me feel small and inferior, well, I have a temper. I push back. And not always in a ladylike way.”
He raised an ironic brow. “And yet, from what I heard, you handled my mother brilliantly. And in a superbly ladylike manner.”
“Oh.” A blush rose to her cheek. “You heard about that?”
“I did. And in the diplomatic service, brains, charm and the ability to think on your feet are just as important as society connections—maybe even more important.”
She pulled a skeptical face. “Which is why most diplomats are titled.”
“If you married me, you’d be titled, too. Now, let us continue this discussion after we reach Grandmama’s. She’s expecting us, and if we don’t arrive before dark, she’ll worry.”
Frowning, she twisted the grass stalk into a knot, then tossed it away. “All right, I’ll go to your grandmother’s. But I warn you, I’m going to tell her everything.”
Chapter Sixteen
Alice’s idyll was over: it was time to go home. They’d spent four days in the little cottage, eating, talking and making love. Alice had never passed such a blissful time in her life. Truth be told, she never wanted to leave.
It was difficult being a mistress, she thought as she packed. Glorious, but also tough on the emotions. Once they were back in their normal lives, it would all be different. They’d have to be discreet. They couldn’t see each other whenever they wanted. They wouldn’t wake up together, wouldn’t make love in the middle of the night and again in the morning. Wouldn’t eat breakfast together—in bed—in such a delightfully decadent fashion as they had. No more evening strolls in the twilight, coming home to a cozy fire, a simple dinner and a glass of wine. And bed.
She’d learned so much about her body—and his—in the last four days. She was saturated with pleasure—more than pleasure. The last few days had given her a new understanding of herself. And not just in bed—though that had been glorious, and eye-opening.
When the weather had allowed, they’d gone for long walks.And in bed or out of it, they’d talked and talked and talked—of everything: stories of their past, thoughts about the world, even favorite books, because James was a reader. Alice couldn’t have imagined a more perfect time. But now it was over.
“This has been the happiest four days—and nights—of my life,” she told James as they waited for the carriage to collect them.
“I’m glad.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, a long, passionate kiss.
“Can we do it again sometime?” The chaise arrived as she spoke.
“What? Come here, do you mean? Why not? I paid the rent for a couple of months.” He grinned down at her and opened the front door. “It can be our secret getaway place.”
They traveled back to London in relative silence. Alice, with James’s arm wrapped around her, felt a little blue. James appeared to be lost in thought. It hardly seemed to take any time at all before they were pulling up outside Bellaire Gardens.
Too public a place for one last kiss, so James simply pulled out her valise and handed it to Tweed, then said a polite goodbye—his eyes said more—and left.
“How is your friend, m’lady?” Tweed asked.
Alice blinked and then remembered. “All better now, thank you.”
She pulled herself together and walked up the stairs. James had made no attempt to speak of marriage again. Not this time, not anymore. She was his mistress now, and mistresses didn’t get asked to be married.
