Absolute Surrender Page 15

  Amelia shook her head then, confirming his suspicions. “Louisa knows everything.”

  Hugh couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he knew her so well, or because of the look of shock on Jackson’s face. Which quite pleased him.

  “Oh, look! A family of ducks is just going for a swim there. How darling.”

  They all looked to Louisa, who smiled.

  Leave it to Louisa to break the tension, Amelia thought. Louisa did know her well. Not best, but well. Hugh knew her best, but he was dealing with much more than just her at the moment. His mind might be elsewhere. He had been rather silent.

  Speaking with them had been difficult. Pulling up to the Row in the park, as it turned out, was to be worse. Everyone looked at them curiously as they passed.

  She tensed and wished to tell the driver to move on, to leave, as quickly as possible, but she didn’t. This trip to Hyde Park had been a terrible miscalculation on their part, while in truth it was an acceptable test of her ability to handle the ton.

  “Drive on.”

  Amelia looked at Charles then. The carriage jerked and pulled back into the lane.

  Charles turned to the driver behind him. “Home,” Charles said quietly.

  She shivered at the thought of being alone with them again.

  “You’ve started something in doing this,” Hugh said to Charles.

  “I agree. However, I wish to be somewhere more comfortable. I am uncomfortable. I don’t wish to be.” Charles looked at her then, and she knew that he was more aware of her discomfort than that he was uncomfortable himself. Though the consideration touched her. “There is enough about this outing without having to deal with these old bats and their opinions. Staying or leaving, tongues will wag. It’s entirely too late to stay them, so why remain here and be miserable? What’s done is done.”

  “Agreed,” Hugh said.

  Amelia was amazed at how easily Charles made these decisions. He simply decided he wanted something to be a certain way, proclaimed it as such, then waited for the world to shift beneath his feet to acquiesce. “Charles, I must beg you, forgive me for placing you in such a position. Yours should always be honorable, not associated with this.” She waved her hand toward herself. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. He has enough. The thought saddened her.

  “You misunderstand if you believe that what I do now is because of my title and my responsibility. What kind of man would I be if I dishonored you? If I cut you in public and walked away from our agreement? What kind of man would that make me?” Charles asked.

  “In the eyes of the ton? A smart one,” she answered.

  “And what of the eyes of Ender? For we know that my opinion would be biased. If I did this, Ender, what does that make me?” he asked without taking his gaze from hers.

  “The worst sort of jackass,” Hugh answered easily.

  She smiled. She couldn’t help it.

  “Well…” Charles started, “what is it the two of you always said? Damn me. Yes, damn me, Ender thinks me a jackass.”

  “Actually, not to make too fine a point of it, but he actually does not think you a jackass. Quite the opposite. Well, in this particular instance, anyway.”

  A warmth expanded from her chest, and she wished, quite desperately, to reach out and take their hands, but it was quite obvious that neither of them would have any of that at the moment.

  They both seemed on edge there, bouncing against each other in the barouche. She couldn’t possibly endeavor to make light of the situation they found themselves in, as she had quite possibly bred this situation. She knew Hugh had always loved her, but she hadn’t known that Charles was in this for much more than a wife—until recently—and he had worn that fact on his sleeve for her. Had not withheld from her the truth of his want. Charles had allowed her to know his deepest thoughts on her without prejudice or bias against her relationship with Hugh. No, he wasn’t a jackass. He was quite the opposite. This was possibly a thorn in Hugh’s side, as it would have been much easier for Hugh to hate a jackass.

  They turned onto Grosvenor, and Charles gave instructions to the driver to pull around to the mews.

  Amelia watched Hugh for a moment, knowing he didn’t appreciate Charles mentioning their childhood game, the one they still often played out of habit. Their game was beyond irreverent, terribly uncouth. Charles hadn’t been privy to those games of heart. He had been disallowed any participation in any of the true games she and Hugh had played as children.

  It saddened her suddenly. They might have had more time together to be friends, and the thought occurred to her as well that Hugh and Charles might have been quite good friends had she not been a factor in it all. They both had this terribly strong sense of ethics and morals. Something that was well used in the House.

  The carriage turned onto Charles Street, then Adam’s Mews and entered a small pull-through surrounded by walls of stone.

  Hugh descended first and brought Louisa down. Then Charles descended and reached for Amelia’s hand. When she looked back up, Hugh had entered the property through a large iron gate, seemingly deep in thought, his eyes on the great expanse of this refuge in the city. It seemed Charles had a park all his own behind his town home.

  Charles took her hand, carefully, very carefully, and placed it on his arm. She watched, the heat of his touch sinking through layers of gloves, the warmth spreading through to her bones. Amelia attempted to allow the heat to work on her the way Hugh’s touch always did.

  “It’s peaceful here,” Charles said.

  Peaceful. Yes. Something she’d always adored about Pembroke-by-the-Sea was the great expanse of the moors and the comfort that expanse brought. London always seemed to close in on her and made her more nervous than usual. Interesting, that. That when she felt the most freedom from herself was when she was unbound, a great expanse outside herself to reach into—that held her together.

  They followed Hugh through the gate, and she took in the green. The back of Charles’s town home was primarily a massive lawn surrounded by flowering bushes and trees that hid the great stone walls encompassing them. The effect was lovely and much more peaceful than most fashionable gardens, landscaped with fountains and small labyrinthine hedges meant to move people with the illusion of space. She often believed them pretentious and more confined.

  “Is he well?” Charles asked.

  Amelia looked to Hugh, who was inspecting the back of the town house. “I imagine the last days have quite tried his patience, finding that you were unworthy of his trickery in particular. It has been a difficult few days, for all of us.”

  Charles nodded to the coachman, and the rear gate closed them in, giving her heart a momentary squeeze with that solid and final-sounding clank. Charles handed her down to the earth beneath a large willow, then followed, resting a safe enough distance from her skirts, and her person. Safe in distance, when all she truly wanted was to be held closely so as not to fall apart.

  “By your leave, my lord, shall I ask to have a luncheon made up?”

  “Of course, Louisa, that would be lovely. There’s a side garden with tables that leads directly to the kitchens. Just let Mrs. Harrington know I sent you and that we are not to be disturbed here.”

  Louisa curtsied, and Amelia watched her walk to the back of the house, speak with Hugh, then round the corner.

  “Yesterday”—Charles cleared his throat—“I must apologize. This all came as a bit of a shock to me, you understand. I never expected that when I asked for his help that it would come in quite such a fashion. Not that I believe he expected to be aiding in such a way, either.”

  “No, I imagine not,” Amelia said. Hugh walked toward them then. “Please sit with us,” she said quietly.

  Hugh laid himself out, watching the sun through the heavy branches of the tree, his head on his hands.

  “You’ve been quiet,” she said.

  “I’ve much to consider, Amelia, and I’m not at all sure you’ll be accepting o
f what it is I have to say. As well, I’m concerned about speaking with you in front of Charles. No offense.”

  “None taken. If you prefer, I can oversee luncheon, give you time—”

  Amelia cut him off. “No, Charles, thank you for that consideration, but I believe whatever’s to be said should involve all of us. We’ve seen what happens when it is but two of us involved in the conversation.”

  Hugh looked at her then. “Are you quite sure, Amelia? The things I wish to say are of an extremely personal nature. I mean only to give you the chance to properly consider your choice. I’ve no issue with involving Charles after we’ve spoken, should you wish it.”

  “No, I wish for us all to be open, and it seems in this matter, for expediency’s sake, possibly or perhaps because I won’t be of a mind to suffer your words twice…I’m not sure why. I just believe we should have it out here, now.”

  Hugh looked to Charles. “Whatever comes next, I’m requesting you be patient with my line of discussion and not haul off and level me.”

  Charles looked to Amelia, and an extreme foreboding manifested in a blush that rushed her arms, speeding her heart. Perhaps in private, perhaps private was better, she thought. What could he possibly have to say that would call Charles to arms? Her breath stilled as she awaited Charles’s response.

  “I will do as Amelia wishes of me.”

  “Please do not level him,” she answered breathlessly.

  Charles nodded, Hugh nodded, then they both watched her. She could see them as though she were a sprite on the boughs of this great willow, looking down on their strange arrangement in the grass. Then Hugh lifted on one elbow, facing them. She could see he was debating how to approach whatever subject it was he was attempting to broach. Then his gaze caught hers rather suddenly, and his mouth dropped open on words she could not have imagined.

  “Amelia, have you ever touched yourself?” Hugh emphasized the word carefully, and she knew it was because he didn’t want to explain himself in great detail.

  “Well, I—” She looked to Charles, whose eyes widened as his hands clenched slightly then loosened, and she looked back to Hugh. “I touch myself often, daily, as I do now.” Her voice trailed off as she raised her eyes to the limbs of the tree, refusing to look on either of them. She knew full well he meant something different but simply could not force herself to say anything else. Which was ridiculous. Because what she’d said was simply ridiculous. She’d touched herself just yesterday, as she’d considered Charles. Damn me.

  “I mean—”

  “I believe I understand what you mean,” she said quickly, cutting him off. She simply couldn’t stand to hear him attempt to explain this, and to have Charles attempt to stay calm, and to stay calm herself. Her heart was already racing. Racing racing racing. Like a thoroughbred. She stabbed her fingernails into her palms, snapping back to the conversation. “And, no. The answer would be no, I…I haven’t truly…” This last bit trailed off into the sunshine like the breath of a butterfly.

  They sat quietly as her world began that bumpy road to spinning, the one that would take her someplace else altogether. The butterflies took possession of her belly now. The flutter multiplying. She breathed heavily against her corset, attempting to feel the pressure of it, to allow that pressure to contain her. Hold her.

  “Come here,” Hugh said quietly. “Let me help you.”

  She moved toward him instinctively, as she had so many times with him. He rested again on his back, and she placed her head on his chest above his heart. “I thought on this last night, after the two of you departed, and I believe some of your fears may come from the unknown. It’s my assumption that you have never…come. I believe if you understood what all the feelings led to, what it was to suffer that crisis, you may be able to control yourself better. Because a climax can feel quite like losing yourself.”

  She looked to Charles then, who moved closer, hopefully not to be within arm’s length of Hugh for nefarious purpose.

  She held his gaze with her own as she spoke. “When Charles kissed me, I rather felt I was losing control. When he touched me…I felt my mind losing tether. I fear losing myself, most of all. I go to another place, and I don’t at all like it when I return.”

  Hugh nodded, and she closed her eyes.

  “Ender…I’m not entirely sure what you’re meaning to do here—” Charles started.

  “As with yesterday, neither am I. But I do know that you get our girl here worked into a passion she’s yet to release. And if she found that release, perhaps it wouldn’t be so frightful for her. You do understand that her fear of the unknown is what drives her more than anything?”

  “I can understand that fear. But I don’t know…to what end…we’re discussing this,” Charles said.

  “She needs to be shown, Charles,” Hugh said simply.

  She needs to be shown, Charles.

  He said it so easily, as if it was of little consequence.

  She needs to wash the linens, Charles.

  She needs to be shown, Charles.

  She needs to see to the staff, Charles.

  She needs to be shown, Charles.

  It echoed in her head for a moment, until Amelia forced herself to pay attention to them discussing her as if she wasn’t there, and she wasn’t—she was back up in the willow, swinging from the boughs. Someplace safe, an easy distance from both of these men.

  Who is to show her this? I suppose it would be you?

  I don’t know, as I said, I’m merely attempting to discern what could help Amelia.

  And if she simply cannot let go from fear, how do you propose to get it done?

  There is only one true way to discover this. The’s not a man, she cannot simply read Fanny Hill.

  Do you not think introducing her to this would be the right of her husband?

  Show me him, and we will both allow it, will we not?

  The sudden tension coursed Hugh’s frame, and she snapped back into place and sat up between them. “Stop, please, I…I’m frightened.”

  Charles’s visage melted, and his concerned eyes caught hers as he reached out and took her hand. “What does it mean when you say you’re frightened?”

  She thought about her fear then. She hadn’t ever really thought about it when she’d said she was frightened before. She merely knew what was to come. The fear was a precursor, something that must be controlled. “I…believe what I mean to say…is that I believe that if we continue at this pace of discussion on this topic, that I might have an episode.”

  “Might?” Charles asked quietly.

  She could see that he wasn’t going to let her off easily anymore. Something had changed in him yesterday, though it seemed he’d been changing ever since the ball. Trying things, watching her and learning, then coming in for more. Last night they’d managed a difficult conversation in the carriage, and she’d been frightened at times, but she’d survived it, made it to her room before she was so overwhelmed that Louisa needed to wrap her up in her blankets nice and secure to be able to sleep.

  “Yes. I’m not yet too far gone, though I’m coming desperately close.” She’d never discussed this. Nobody had ever wanted to know these things of her. Not even Hugh. He simply knew what to do, so even they hadn’t discussed anything.

  Charles took her hands and rubbed circles slowly into her palms. She breathed. “Better?” he asked.

  She concentrated on the circles on her hands rather than the spiraling in her head. “Yes. Better.”

  “Can you look at me?” Charles asked quietly. That was when she realized she’d closed her eyes to concentrate on the feel of him. She shook her head slowly, breathed again.

  He gave her hands a quick squeeze. “It’s all right.”

  She opened her eyes then, the sudden realization that this man wouldn’t be one to rush her a heady push to her senses. But these feelings were different from before. They weren’t the dizzying, terrifying fall from herself. The inevitable spiral that would land her in a
shuddering mess wrapped tight in a ball. This was different. Different.

  Amelia held his gaze, slowly leaning toward him, her eyes on his mouth. When their lips met, it was as though her heart had begun to sing.

  Charles’s hands traced up her arms, then pulled her closer to him, as he leaned back into the tree. “Stay with me, Amelia,” Charles said quietly against her mouth.

  Her hands rested on his waistcoat, her body leaning across his as he held her ever so gently, kissed her ever so softly. She heard the shift of fabric behind her and knew Hugh was leaving them. She stiffened at the realization, then Charles’s hands traced down and back up to her shoulders. Her hands twisted in his waistcoat, and he pulled her closer, one of his big hands moving to her neck, the other finding her waist through her skirts and pulling her even closer to him, practically on top of him.

  The full hardness of his man’s body was against her, beneath her, the muscles tensing and rolling as she lay upon him. She concentrated on that…the feel of his muscles, the roll, the sway of his body with every breath, as though she were the ship on the ocean of his chest. Rising and falling, rising and falling. She broke away from him, looking up into the dizzying heights of the willow branches above her, determined to stay with him as he kissed down her neck, seemed to lick the very pulse of it.

  “Charles. I can’t. I—”

  His hands came up, and he held her face, stroking her jaw as she pushed away from him. “I just—”

  He shook his head, cutting her off. “Hugh.” Charles called him, and she heard the footsteps across the grass grow close again. What did he mean to do? “She needs you. You can’t leave.”

  Inappropriate! She gasped and pushed away. This was so very inappropriate. “You can’t mean to do this again. You make a wanton of me.”

  “And who is here to judge us?” Charles asked, attempting to remain calm, willing himself to be strong. He tried to consider options, but what he saw, the only thing he saw when they were close, was her slipping away. They’d gotten so close last night…because of Ender. But Charles wasn’t willing to give her up yet. Whatever happened at this point, he knew one thing for certain: he was determined to fight for her. From his perspective, she belonged to Ender, and he had to prove she could be safe with him. Vexed. He was vexed.