When he heard the wheels of a hack approaching, he pulled in a resigned breath.
“I hate to leave you now,” he said quietly. “But I’ve business that cannot wait. I’ll see you tonight in the sitting room, MissWoodville. And you’ve a standing invitation for eleven o’clock in my room.”
That night, Ginny and Marchand listened to Mrs. Pariseau read fromThe Arabian Nights Entertainmentsin the presence of all of her new friends from the Grand Palace on the Thames.
Then Ginny bid everyone a fond farewell. She would be leaving for Sussex the following morning on the mail coach, and that meant she needed to rise very early, even earlier than the maids. She needed to finish packing her trunks and valise this evening.
She was hugged and cheek-kissed and patted (Daniel did the patting), and she basked in the shower of genuine affection while Marchand looked on.
“You’ll have to return to fetch your donkey. But I’m happy to look after her while you’re away,” Mr. Delacorte told her.
“Thank you, Mr. Delacorte. I know she’s in good hands.”
She turned to Marchand.
He bowed to her. “It’s been a pleasure, albeit a brief one, Miss Woodville.”
“Likewise, Mr. Marchand.” She curtsied sedately.
At eleven o’clock that evening, Ginny appeared at his bedroom door in her night rail. She’d thrown a pelisse over it.
His door was already ajar. She pushed it open, closed it, and locked it.
She threw off the night rail and pelisse, kicked both aside, and went naked into his arms.
They made love wordlessly, with a desperate, thorough, tender savagery. Licking, kissing, clawing, sucking, colliding. Sighs, the slide of hands over skin, their names moaned in begging cadences, and the crackle of the fire were the only sounds.
Finally they lay, spent and sweaty, side by side, hands twined, in silence.
“I cannot bear the thought of never seeing you again,” she whispered finally, anguished. “And I cannot imagine never seeing my family again. And that’s what might very well happen if I stay with you.”
His heart shot into his throat.
He’d asked nothing of her and demanded nothing of her. He had resigned himself to taking what he could, and to the pain of missing her when she was gone.
This was the first time she’d mentioned she’d even thought of staying with him.
He scarcely dared breathe, let alone speak.
He considered what to say.
“I meant everything I said to you in the hall the other day, Ginny,” he said carefully. “About what I will give you. What I will do for you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” Too many endings were nigh; he could not bear the miracle of hope’s resurrection only to watch that die again, too.
She was quiet. They both sensed the heaviness in the room.
He dragged his hand along the eloquent curve of her waist to the swell of her hip. “Sometimes, Ginny... I think youwould feel better about this if I was just a little ashamed of being what I am.”
“Never.” She was indignant. “Donotput words in my mouth, just because you want to goad me into an argument so we feel less sorry about parting.”
That made him smile. She was too bloody smart, and so effortlessly able to stand up to him. How he enjoyed it.
“Then perhaps you are a little ashamed ofyourselffor loving me.”
It mordantly amused him that she actually paused to think this over. “I swear to you, that’s not true. I’m not ashamed of you, and I’m not ashamed of myself. I think you are remarkable, and I love you.”
“Tell me another word for it.”
She considered this, too. “It’s fear.”