Page 5 of A Sense of Paradise
She grinned. ‘Easier said than done. My bustle is made out of horsehair and is incredibly uncomfortable to sit on. Violet tells me it’s necessary to suffer in order to look passable. I shall have to take her word for it.’
Archie laughed. ‘The effort is definitely having the desired effect on this old man.’
‘Behave yourself!’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘Melanie is close by somewhere and you will offend her sensibilities.’
‘I hope you will be equally mindful of our children’s feelings,’ he said in a low tone, careful not to be overheard.
‘And I know very well that your mind is more agreeably occupied with thoughts of creating them,’ she said, blushing when she realised what she had said.
Archie threw his head back and laughed. ‘What a thing to suggest.’
‘I hope this rogue is behaving himself,’ Paul Dalton, Luke’s secretary who was married to his sister Mary, remarked as he joined them.
‘Of course he is not,’ Flora replied with an airy wave. ‘Whatever makes you think that Archie Felsham would change the habits of a lifetime? He is being impossible, as always, but what is one to do?’
‘Who was the French lady outside the church dead set on attracting your attention?’ Alvin Watson, the fourth member of their set and married to Luke’s other sister, asked as he joined them.
Damn!Archie glanced at Flora, who showed no reaction. ‘What makes you suppose that she was French, or here for my benefit?’ Archie asked, wishing the words back the moment they slipped past his lips. He sounded far too sharp and defensive.
Fortunately, Luke’s butler chose that moment to announce that the wedding breakfast was about to be served. Archie hauled himself to his feet by leaning his weight on his stick and waited for his leg to straighten as much as it was likely to, wincing against the pain. He offered Flora his arm and she hesitated before placing her hand on it. He looked down at her, desperate to assure her that the situation was not of his making, but she was watching the procession into the ballroom as it made its stately way in that direction, and for once she had nothing to say for herself.
Chapter Two
Eloise could scarcely believe her eyes. The sight of Pascal, her beloved Pascal—or Archie as she must now think of him—looking so strong, so robust and so staggeringly endearing stole her breath away. He had returned to England, resumed his old life and assumed his father’s title when the time came. She was glad that he had been reunited with his respected father for a while before that situation came about. Eloise had met the old marquess on his frequent visits to France and had enjoyed his company enormously. Eloise had followed the stir that Archie’s phoenix-like rise from the ashes of his own demise had created. When the English newspapers reached her, a week or more out of date, she devoured every word that they had written on the subject.
The reasons for the scandal that had required his withdrawal had been buried along with the wronged husband who’d been responsible for creating it. Instead, the heir to a rich marquisate had been welcomed home with barely a stain attaching to his reputation, along with a great deal of sympathy for his disability. Eloise didn’t doubt that his return had caused communal salivation amongst the match-making matriarchs, but their efforts had thus far proven futile. Even so, he would have to marry at some stage. Envy had eaten away at Eloise every time she confronted that reality.
It continued to do so.
Watching him now, as suave and self-assured as always, it was as though the ten years he had spent in France posing as his cousin had never existed. Those exquisite ten years that had taken her beyond her wildest imaginings. She knew with absolute certainty that although she was still only twenty-eight, the best time of her life had already been and gone. Archie had spoiled her for everyone else.
She closed her eyes and relived the sublime feel of Archie’s lips on hers—of his hands bringing her alive in all sorts of inventive ways, of the deep vibration that echoed through his chest on the rare occasions when he laughed, of the way he talked for hours about England, and about what a fool he had been to throw it all away. He poured his heart out to her, and yet Eloise had sensed that he held a vital part of himself back, although she had to concede that he had never deliberately misled her either.
As soon as she became more to him than a mere nurse, he had made it clear that she was a convenience. Of course, he hadn’t worded it quite that bluntly. He had been charmingly self-deprecating, warning her not to expect more from him than he was willing to offer, and she had agreed to his terms without hesitation. Eloise would have agreed to walk naked over hot coals had he asked her to, such had been her fascination for this damaged rascal of an Englishman. She had assured him that French women were more worldly than their English counterparts, and that she expected from him only as much as he was prepared to offer her.
And offer he did, as generously and as frequently as his physical limitations permitted. She smiled, thinking he was nothing if not inventive in that regard. He had paid her very generously for her services, both those that she had been engaged to provide and those that she would have gratefully supplied for nothing. When the time came for him to return to England a small part of her hoped that he had fallen as deeply in love with her as she had with him.
She should have known better, she thought, smiling at her own naivety. On his departure from France he had given her a substantial parting gift and wished her well with the rest of her life. He had kissed her cheeks and she convinced herself that there had been an expression of regret and tenderness in his eyes. Then he told her that their paths would not cross again and her hope abruptly died as reality kicked in. He was heir to a marquisate, and she was the daughter of the man who managed his uncle’s vineyards—vineyards that were now his, inherited upon his uncle’s demise and still managed by Eloise’s father. A union between them would have been amésallianceof epic proportions. The English aristocracy lived by a rigid set of rules. Archie’s youthful indiscretions could be overlooked but if he dared to introduce a female from the lower ranks as his marchioness—and, God forbid, a foreigner to boot—he would never have been forgiven.
Eloise had known it from the start, and yet her heart was having none of it and she had continued to dream. It came as a bitter blow when Archie left France, sent for by his ailing father. He was a broken man physically, but he still wore an air of authority and possessed an iron will. His was a determination that made no allowances for a disability that he had insisted was of his own making and was therefore to be borne with fortitude.
He had barely been able to walk; his man Pawson needed to support his weight when he left France. And yet today here he was, walking from the church with barely a limp following the wedding of his closest friend. He had spoken about Luke Beranger at length and with great affection during the long evenings they had spent together. She knew that not being able to tell Luke he was still alive had torn him apart. But now here he was, miraculously brought back to life and smiling at the bridesmaid on his arm in a familiar fashion that made Eloise feel sick with jealousy.
He used to look at me that way.
Except that he never had, at least not quite so intensely, she was obliged to accept. The bridesmaid was nothing out of the ordinary and Eloise knew that she herself was ten times prettier. Men! She tossed her head, thinking she would never understand them. They said one thing and did another. Well, Archie hadn’t, she was obliged to concede, but if he had remained in France for just a little longer then perhaps things would have ended differently.
She was unable to prevent herself from calling out to him, even though it hadn’t been her intention to do so, and he glanced in her direction. The shock of recognition was replaced by anger in the brief moment she was able to observe his expression before he turned away again. The bridesmaid looked at her for rather longer and then asked Archie a question. He bent to listen, leaning close and smiling intimately before escorting her and another young lady towards one of the waiting carriages. He didn’t glance in her direction again, treating her as though she didn’t exist, and for him perhaps she no longer did. Eloise felt bereft as she watched his conveyance move away to the sound of the cheering crowd and Archie’s raised hat, acknowledging those cheers.
She shouldn’t have come to this wedding today. It had been an error of judgement but she hadn’t known what else to do in order to make him notice her. He had told her there would be no further contact between them before he left France, telling her that he never looked back.
Always forward.
Eloise knew she was losing the love of her life but didn’t try to reason with him. After all, she had her pride. But this was different. She had written to Archie twice before she left France, telling him that she had something to talk to him about. She had assumed he would respond, if only out of a sense of obligation. She waited every day for the post to arrive but no letters came from England.
Out of her mind with worry, she had no choice but to come here herself and reason with him. He was the only person with the authority to help, and it hadn’t once occurred to her that he would be disobliging. She had taken a room in a tavern called the Stag and Hounds in Lyneham village, the closest she could find to the imposing mansion of which he now had complete control, and intended to visit Archie in person. He would surely receive her, and once he heard of her problems he would naturally want to help.
The moment she arrived she heard the gossip in the tavern. Everyone was excited about the earl’s wedding and their marquess’s part in it. She couldn’t enter the taproom herself but Louis had repeated the speculation he had overheard about Archie’s marital intentions. Everyone appeared to have an opinion on the subject. Luke Beranger tying the knot would, they all agreed, be the tipping point as far as Archie was concerned. Without the earl to run amok with, he would have to turn his thoughts to settling down. As to his choice…well, that was where opinions differed.
