by Raine Miller
Leaning against his hand, she closed her eyes for a moment before responding, “I am grateful it was you as well. I feel less burdened now. Thank you for hearing me. You are a good friend, Lord Rothvale.”
He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “More than a friend, remember? And after this day of painful confessions, do you think you could leave off with the titles? I wish to be just ‘Graham’ to you. Would that be all right, chérie?”
“Yes…Graham.” The slight hesitation before she said his name was endearing. He loved the sound of it coming off her sweet lips.
“Thank you, chérie.” He stood up then, holding out his hand to her. “I think we need to get out of this cold. What say you to going back to the house for tea? We might play cards afterward, perhaps Whist or Vingt-et-un? Would you like that?”
Imogene looked up at him for a moment and then stood, taking his hand, a slow smile stretching until it became a grin really. “Well, all right, but you should know that I will try to win. I will probably win.” She finished authoritatively with more nods.
“Ah yes, competition motivates you. That is a good thing though. It will make everything so much more amusing. You know, I think I have stumbled upon it. The knack with you is to find out what it is that you want. For once you know that, you’ll fight like the devil to win it. Won’t you?”
“Yes, Graham, I will fight for what I want.” Her words made him soar.
“THE wedding is tomorrow, and I must leave the day after,” Graham said.
“To London?”
“Initially yes, but then I must be on to Gavandon. It is time to return to my home. I’ve been away for so long.”
Imogene could not meet his eyes. The reality of his words hurt. They hurt badly. He had been invited to dinner tonight and they were together in the garden. Leaving? Not here any longer? Surely he would seek her out again when she went north to Philippa and John. He would be only a few miles from her. She felt things could not be finished between them. From the day they had met, he had never wavered in his courtesy to her, asking permission to pay her court, even. They had occasion to meet nearly every day since their introduction. He had called on her at home and had dined with her family. She had been invited to Kenilbrooke on several occasions. They had ridden and walked together and enjoyed each other’s company in society and at church. What was the purpose if he was just going to leave? She kept her face down to maintain her composure.
“Will you not look at me?”
She did, reluctantly. “You will be missed when you are gone, Graham.”
“I can’t tell you how good it feels to know that, Imogene.” A hand moved up to touch her hair. “I don’t want to leave you either, but you’ll be at Wellick soon and I can come to you there.”
“I will be there in six weeks’ time.” She made a brave attempt at a smile. “I will look forward to you calling upon me then.”
Bringing both of her hands up, he kissed them back and forth. “Six weeks feels like an age of time to me. What do you think, chérie?”
“An age of time, for truth,” she answered with a breathy laugh. “At least now I know you will miss me.”
He pulled her close, wrapping her into his arms. “Imogene, what if we did not have to wait so long? What if we could be togeth—”
“Imogene! Time to go into the house now.” Her uncle, Sir Oliver, interrupted them and guiltily they jumped apart. “Lord Rothvale and I must talk together,” her uncle said firmly.
Blushing deeply, Imogene curtsied. She looked up at Graham to find him beaming, giving her the kind of smile that was rare for him.
“Goodnight, Miss Imogene.” He bowed, his smiling green eyes glowing in the moonlight.
SIX
I loved not yet, yet I loved to love…I sought what
I might love, loving to love.
St. Augustine ~Confessions, AD 397-8
JULIAN Everley and Mina Charleston were blessed with a remarkably mild day for their wedding. When the bridal couple knelt together, and the words spoken, Imogene had cause to reflect upon the meaning of those words. The bride and groom looked wonderful, but the man standing up for the groom was the only one Imogene could see. She went to the wedding feast and dancing at Kenilbrooke Hall with a heavy heart under her smile, for she knew this was the last day. Graham would be leaving Shelburne in the morning.
Exuberant guests feeling the effects of wedding punch made for a lively celebration at Kenilbrooke Hall despite her gloominess. Graham danced with her as much as convention allowed but as soon as their set ended, he took her hand firmly and asked, “Imogene, I need to speak with you, alone. Will you come with me?” Her heart did a flip, her legs turned to jelly, but her head nodded, yes.
Outside, on the balcony, he took both of her hands into his and looked at her dead on. “I must tell you something, but I think you might know already. I think everybody knows.” He shook his head a little. “Regardless, I will speak from my true heart to you now. My chérie, Imogene, you have captured my heart in these short few weeks. I knew it the first time I saw you, and then, when we met that night at the ball. The more I am with you, and the more I know you, the more I know you are the one for me. I have no wish to be parted from you, but if I have the promise of you, I know I can bear the separation.”
Imogene leaned back upon the wall for support and closed her eyes for a moment, wanting to let his words fall over her, to feel every letter of them. She opened her eyes and focused on his beautiful green ones.
“I have a question I wish to ask, but before I do, you must understand that I do not want your answer…yet. Tomorrow, I am obliged to leave, as you know. I will come to you at Wilton Court before I depart, to bid you farewell and would have your answer then. It is important to me that you take some time to reflect upon what I ask of you tonight, before you respond. Can you do this for me, chérie?”
“I can.” She nodded, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest.
“Imogene, I want to marry you. I offer myself to you with great affection and respect, and vow that my desire in this is with no other requirement than to allow me to care for you and to make a life together.” He brought her hands up to his heart and pressed them over it. “Will you be my wife, Imogene, my Lady Rothvale?”
Starting to speak, she stopped herself, biting her bottom lip to keep from answering. “I will give you the answer tomorrow, as you have asked.”
He moved her hands from over his heart up to his lips and kissed the palm of each one. “Do you understand why I am asking you to reflect upon my proposal before you give me your answer?”
“I think so, but tell me anyway.”
He let out his breath. “I asked your uncle last night for his consent and he has given it, but I did make sure he understood that it is for you to decide, unequivocally. Frankly, I am grateful he found us together in the garden last night, but you are a young woman, not yet of age, alone, and without parental guidance in this most important decision. I am a good bit older than you, and could in a way, be seen as a guardian of sorts. I would never wish, could not bear for you to feel—to feel that you have been passed along from your parents, to your aunt and uncle, and then finally on to me. Everyone has good intentions. They feel pleased to know you could be settled, and their guilt and sorrow for your loss are erased. People are happy to see a pretty girl marry a rich man. It makes them feel better about their own miserable lives. But none of these are reasons for you to accept me. I want you to accept me because you know it is what you want, not because you have been influenced, or coaxed, or persuaded by the well-intentioned. I want you to marry me because you know you want me. And when you know, I will know it too.”
Imogene moved one of her hands out of his grasp and brought it up to the side of his face. He closed his eyes for a moment and it felt to her as if he trembled under her touch. “And you’re sure you want me?”
“I am sure. That first day, when I saw you carrying in that lamb, and later at the ball when we talk
ed, I knew without a shadow of a doubt you were the one for me. Right away I knew you were the woman of my dreams, the one I hoped to find one day. I want no other but you. I love you, Imogene, and I want you to belong to me.”
“You do?” Imogene nodded into his eyes. She was not able to speak or respond beyond that simple effort. He loves me.
“I do,” he said solemnly, offering his arm, “shall we go back to the party then, chérie?” She let him lead her back inside to the eager expressions, the clapping, and the cheering of exuberant wedding guests. Graham turned to her and whispered, “See? Even now everyone assumes you have accepted me. Please ignore them. Let’s pretend we’re alone, and they are not here. Keep smiling and putting your eyes on me, chérie. It’s just us, you and me. Better yet, it’s just us, staring into a crowd of people that look like sheep.”
She laughed silently at his words, and held onto his eyes. She would remember his eyes in this moment. His eyes told her everything she needed to know.
THE following day, Imogene prepared herself carefully to give Graham his answer. For him, she chose a cream brocade dress decorated with brown embroidery, topped with a brown crochet Spencer jacket. The jacket had a V-shaped neckline and was short-sleeved coming to just above her elbows. The bottom of the waist ruffle and the edge of the sleeve were both finished with cream crochet. Over that, she put on a long, cream, linen coat for warmth. She left her hair down in long curls, pulling it all to one side, and secured with a ribbon. A brown cameo on cream velvet was placed around her neck. She applied her soft honeysuckle scent, checked her package for him, and also the letter. Imogene was ready.
Cariss knocked at the door before bouncing into the room. “You look beautiful, Imogene, and I am so happy for you.” Imogene embraced her sweet cousin tightly. “It is not such a great surprise that Lord Rothvale wants to marry you, though it is a relief to finally be able to speak of it with you.” Cariss squeezed her hands.
“Was it so obvious to everyone, truly?”
“Oh, Imogene, you cannot say you don’t already know it. Everyone with two eyes could see it and know it. For God’s sake, the sky and the grass and the trees knew it. Did you never wonder why everyone left the two of you alone? They were loath to approach you when you were together, so lost you were in each other. We did not dare. And being proposed to at a wedding? It was quite magical seeing the two of you, like a fairy tale really, and nobody wished to break the spell. And now, the fairy tale will have a happy ending for you and Lord Rothvale, just as you both so richly deserve.”
Imogene hugged her cousin, felt the emotion and tried to control it for she did not want a tear-stained face at the moment.
“Cari, you are so dear to me. I wish for you to attend me at my wedding. Will you?”
“It would be an honor.” Cariss kissed her cheek.
Aunt Wilton interrupted them. “He is here, Imogene, and you must come down now.”
Imogene looked at Cariss, took a deep breath, gathered her things, and went down with her aunt. “Here she is,” Aunt Wilton announced, leading Imogene over to Graham, who stood next to her uncle in the drawing room.
He watched her approach, his eyes devouring her. He bowed. “Good morning, Imogene.”
She curtsied. “Good morning, Graham.” For the first time in public they both used only their given Christian names in the familiar address.
Smiling at her, she knew he’d caught the gesture. “Will you walk in the garden with me?”
She nodded her answer mostly because she was busy looking at him. He was so handsome in his clothes, not dandified, but masculine—long dark brown coat, brown waistcoat, green shirt and tall boots. His hair was tied with a dark green ribbon today. How in the world would she bear it when he left this afternoon?
Clasping her hand, he led her out of the house, into the garden and to a bench with no sides or back. She sat with her legs off one edge; he sat with his over the other edge. Setting down her things, she turned to him. He took both of her hands into his. “You are so beautiful I can hardly speak for looking at you.”
“I feel the same way about you, and I am glad you think so. I wanted to be beautiful for you today.”
“BUT you always are.” Graham forced the question out of mouth. “Do you have an answer for me to what I asked of you yesterday?”
Imogene looked down at their hands where he was holding them entwined. He gentled his grip immediately, knowing he must have been holding her too tight without realizing. He couldn’t help it though. He was desperate. Now he just wanted her answer so he could find some blessed relief. He tilted her chin up gently with one finger so he could see those beautifully expressive eyes of hers. If he could see into her eyes he would know—
“Graham, I want you to know that I did spend some time reflecting upon your words last night. You said you did not wish for me to ever feel coerced to accept you, but only desired me if I knew that you were what I wanted.”
“Yes.” He nodded. This waiting was torture. He really just wanted to kiss her and take her away somewhere very private and not come away until he had discovered every secret about her.
“Well, I do know what I want.”
Her eyes burned back at him. “Tell me.” He waited and soaked up the vision of her.
“I want you, Graham. The title, the manor, the great estate, all mean far less to me. I have had all of those things, and I will never be poor. I know my father settled well on me, and I will never need to find a rich husband…just one that loves me.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. And then because he could not stop himself from doing it, he brought his lips to her lips with just the lightest touch. He felt a shiver run through her and wanted to do more, but now was not the time. He pulled back and waited for her to continue.
“And since I trust you, and believe in your character, I know I have found that man.” She took a deep breath. “So, I will say the words to you in this way, as I am guessing they will mean more to you like this. Firstly, Graham, I love you as well. I love your honesty, your easy manner, your sincerity, your strength, your kindness—the man that you are. Secondly, in answer to your proposal, I accept your hand in marriage. I do wish to be your wife, to love and honor you, and to live my life with you.”
Graham leaned forward until their foreheads met and just rested against her for a moment. Imogene’s words had touched him deeply, but also cleared away his many doubts.
“If I am quiet it is because I am unable to speak for being in awe of you. You have made me the happiest man, Imogene.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a carved gold ring. “You’ll have another ring when I can get it from Gavandon.” Slipping it on her finger, he kissed her hand and held it up to his beating heart. “Can you feel my heart beating? It’s more like pounding really.”
She nodded. “I can feel it, your heart…my heart.”
“It is yours,” he said.
“I have something for you, a gift, an improper gift, but I do not care. I must give it before you go away.” She handed him a small package.
“An improper gift, from you? How intriguing.” He accepted and opened the small packet. Inside a dozen ribbons of various sizes and colours were lined together, mostly dark, all cut to the same one foot length. He touched one of her long curls. “I know what this is. In your sweet way you are telling me not to cut my hair. You need not worry. I know you fancy my hair and I would not have cut it short. I might have to trim it though. I don’t think I’d like it down my back. Will that be all right, chérie, if I just keep it trimmed to the length it is now?” He could not hold back the grin that was dying to get out. He loved teasing her and seeing the blush she would give him when she answered his question. Knowing and predicting her responses to him was an intense feeling. He still had so much to learn about her.
“Yes, of course,” Imogene said. She blushed right on cue and looked down, as if the prospect of him arranging himself personally for her was making her shy.
>
Her blush also gave him a brutally stiff cock.
Imagining Imogene blushing in his bed, and all of the things they would do together once she was his wife—
“Graham?” Her soft inquiry dragged him from his wicked thoughts and back into the present.
“Thank you for the ribbons. I will wear them, and think of you.” Hell, if that weren’t the truth. He’d wear her ribbon ties and think of both of them together wearing nothing but the ribbons.
“I have a letter for you as well, Graham. My very first letter to you. I’ll give it to you now, but you mustn’t open it until you get to London.” She put the letter into his hands. “Put it in your pocket and I will know if you cheat,” she warned.
He placed her letter in his waistcoat pocket where he could feel it against his chest. He wrapped up the ribbons and put them into a pocket of his coat. Rising from the bench, he offered his hand. “Walk with me?”
She let him lead her out of the garden and onto the grounds, her hand securely in his. He needed the touching, and he suspected Imogene did, too, because they were both dreading the parting that would come soon enough.
He made for a large tree that could afford some privacy from the outside world, and figured it would have to do. The moment they were under the canopy Graham pulled her into his arms, and breathed in the scent of her. The lavender she used on her hair and the honeysuckle for her skin. “You smell so good.” He rested his chin on the top of her head.
“So do you.”
“To hold you like this is heavenly, Imogene. I wish I didn’t have to let you go. You’ve made me so happy, but it makes it no easier to leave you now. I’ll have to take this memory with me so I can bear being parted.”
“You will come for Christmas?”