It would be done.
It was more than time that he put that damned night at Almack’s behind him. God knows, he had already come close to making a complete ass of himself. When he had heard that Audrey Hathaway had rejected his brother’s offer he had been awash with all manner of unexpected emotions. He could not fathom why she should have refused Roddy and his thoughts had returned to the subject with irksome frequency. Three times he had taken it into his head to ask her, to the point where he actually decided to seek her out. Once, at Vauxhall, he had lingered in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to catch her alone. Unfortunately, the girl had learned caution since their last encounter and she stayed with her family. He had spent a good hour watching her, however, until it had occurred to him that he was behaving like an idiot. The second time he had thought to see her was at one of the entertainments Prinny enjoyed putting on in the park. He had glimpsed her among the trees, watching the fireworks that had been exploding across the water, her face lifted upwards in rapt delight. The sight of her had stopped him in his tracks. For a long moment, he had not been able to look away and he had felt something – something unnerving – shift within him. He had left without approaching her again, shaken and uncharacteristically uncertain about his own feelings.
The third time he had come across her by accident and under the most prosaic of circumstances. He had been cutting across the park, preoccupied with his own internal landscape, wondering why he was experiencing so much difficulty in returning to his carefree existence. There wasn’t any reason for him to still be in England. Usually he would have left for the continent weeks before but for some reason, he continued to linger, spending time at his club, listening to gossip. It was surprising how much men gossiped! They were, in their own way, very much like the old tabbies that gathered on the edges of the dance floors, deconstructing characters and imbuing the worst possible motives to the actions of others. So preoccupied was he with his irksome introspection that he almost stumbled across Audrey Hathaway emerging from one of the many arbors that were situated around the place. Ironically, considering his restless thoughts had settled upon her once again, he had not noticed a figure emerging until he was almost upon her. He had sidestepped, an automatic apology on his lips, which had died into silence when he had looked into her wide, startled eyes.
‘Miss Hathaway!’ The words had been abrupt to the point of rude.
The color seemed to drain from her lovely face, leaving it the color of fresh fallen snow before there came a sudden rush of pink, suffusing her skin. It was enchanting. She opened, then closed her lips, before taking herself in hand. ‘Mr. Kirkwood,’ she said, with credible composure and no more than a small, telltale quiver in her voice to give away her discomfort at seeing him again.
He had stared at her, drinking in the sight of her face as a thirsty man might drink in water. In the pale golden sunlight she looked a vision and his fingers itched to touch her. He glanced around quickly and found that they were alone.
How very unfortunate.
‘You refused Allingham.’ The words came out almost without conscious volition. He had really wanted to know why she had refused his brother.
She hesitated, glancing around herself. Looking for the reassurance of her companions, who must surely be close by. Young women did not walk in the park by themselves. ‘I do not believe that I wish to discuss it.’ She had sounded both desperate and nervous.
‘I am quite sure you don’t, but tell me anyway.’
Audrey had bitten her soft, full under lip. The sight of that small movement had caused an abrupt eddy of heat to surge through him, quite shocking in its intensity.
‘I have to go!’
‘In a moment. Just tell me. Please.’
She had cast him an anguished glance. ‘If you must know, I felt we would not be suited. And now, if you will excuse me, Sir -’
‘Why the devil wouldn’t you be suited?’ he insisted. ‘Dear God, any fool could tell you that Roddy is a catch. You intended to marry him. I know you did. Why the devil did you change your mind?’
‘I do not want to discuss this!’
‘Oh, for God’s sake…’ She had gone to turn away from him and he had reached out instinctively, unwilling to let her go. Damn it, he never wanted to let her go! Common sense – or even plain courtesy – seemed to have vanished in his irrational compulsion to understand why Audrey had rejected Roddy’s offer. He had caught hold of her upper arm and she had turned to stone beneath his touch, as if suddenly frozen to the spot. He knew he should have released her immediately. But he had not. ‘Tell me,’ he said again, voice dropping.
‘I could not,’ she said, voice barely audible. ‘It would have been quite wrong of me to do so.’
‘But you had been going to?’ he had insisted. His hand had remained on her arm because he had not wanted to break contact. On the contrary, he had experienced an overwhelming urge to pull her against him, tilt her chin up and kiss her thoroughly. And that had not been the least of it. That kiss would have been – should have been – followed by all manner of other actions, all of them intimate, all of them delightful. His feelings for Audrey were both incandescent and unreasonable in almost equal measure. Even as he had fought the compulsion to touch her, he had understood that he was not thinking as a rational being.
Audrey Hathaway had stripped him of that faculty ever since that damned night at Almack’s.
She drew a deep breath and he saw the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the tiny signs of strain on her face. It made him wonder… had the past weeks been as difficult for her?
‘I could not accept his offer because I could not give him what he deserved,’ she had said with quiet dignity. ‘Your brother is a good man. He should marry a woman who can… who can fully reciprocate his affections.’
‘And why couldn’t you?’ he had demanded harshly. ‘Was it because of me?’
She had stared at him, blue-green eyes full of anguish. ‘You know it was…’ It had been a whisper.
‘Oh I know well enough.’ He had released her arm, but only to smooth his thumb across her mouth, unable to resist touching the delicate skin. It was such a delightfully sensuous mouth and her obvious innocence only provoked him further, for it would be a rare pleasure to teach her all of the wonders to be found in her body. Wonders that she might never discover, if she married some idiotic clod. The very idea of Audrey marrying somebody, of giving herself to some man, was surprisingly painful. Unpleasantly so. Somehow, he had taken the notion into his head that she belonged to him, no matter how impossible, how illogical, that was.
He did not want to settle with any one woman.
And even if he did, what woman would want to marry a bastard? Certainly not a respectable female from a respectable family.
Audrey Hathaway was as unattainable as the stars.
Remarkably, she had not flinched from the outrageous intimacy of his touch. Indeed, for a moment she had closed her eyes and swayed a little closer and he had been moments away from stepping forward and taking her into his arms when the sound of voices from the arbor had shaken them both free of the moment.
‘Audrey? Where are you, my dear?’
Lady Hathaway had arrived and not a moment too soon. He had stepped back hastily. With a last look at him, Audrey had turned abruptly, hurrying back into the arbor, no doubt to head her mother off and he had walked quickly on, shaken and even more disturbed than he had been before their second, unexpected meeting.
After that, he had stayed away. He had fully intended to continue to do so until whatever insanity that gripped him released its hold. But his thoughts about the girl did not abate and the need to see her, to talk to her had grown until it had overcome his good judgment. He had taken it into his head to head into Somerset and see her in her own surroundings. To what end, he could not say for he found himself curiously unwilling to investigate any further than the journey. Fortuitously, he had a friend who lived in Somerset, Linus Devonport, with whom he had shared all manner of hijinks at Oxford. Devonport was married now and had taken on the life of a comfortable country squire but he had written back that he would be delighted to put Darius up for however long he cared to stay.