Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion. Louise Allen. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Louise Allen
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon e-Book Collections
Жанр произведения: Историческая литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474085793
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have her. And if not, she already had plans to move to Southampton, so nobody would know any different when she disappeared.

      ‘Yes. I enjoyed travelling so much that I can’t wait to set off again. We might return to Paris, where we were so happy. Or we might go and see what Italy is like. He’s always wanted to go to Italy. And,’ she put in before Mrs Podmore could accuse Nathan of latching on to her because of her money, ‘I can afford to take him there.’

      ‘No! You must not. Only think what people will say...’

      That was exactly what she was doing. Between her and the baker’s boy, the news would be all over town within minutes.

      ‘I don’t care what anyone says,’ she declared. ‘I cannot live without him.’

      She beamed at Mrs Podmore, who was opening and closing her mouth like a landed trout.

      ‘Good day,’ said Amethyst and managed to nip past Mrs Podmore while she was trying to untangle her umbrella from the overhanging branches of her cherry trees. Past the gaping baker’s boy, who’d abandoned any pretence at retrieving the spoiled rolls. Up the hill and through the market square she sincerely hoped she’d never have to set eyes on again, before much longer, and along the lane that led to the Murdoch place.

      * * *

      It wasn’t long before she caught sight of Nathan in the lane ahead of her, because he was walking really slowly, his head bowed. Impervious to the snow, which was settling on his shoulders and the crown of his hat.

      Hope surged. He couldn’t look so sad if he didn’t still love her. Didn’t regret having left her the way he had.

      ‘I have just one thing to say,’ she said as he reached his front door.

      He spun round. For a moment she caught a glimpse of the carefree young man who’d argued with her about the Rights of Man over a bottle of beer in a Parisian dance hall. But then his face changed. And the cynical, embittered, disgraced politician stood in his place.

      ‘I have nothing further to say to you, madam,’ he said coldly.

      ‘Well, you can just listen then,’ she said, pushing past him into the house as an unsuspecting butler opened the door.

      ‘I have had longer to think about...us. Knowing all about the discrepancy in our wealth. And do you know what I have realised?’

      ‘You clearly mean to tell me,’ he said wearily. ‘You had better come in here.’ He pushed open the door to a sparsely furnished parlour and ushered her in.

      ‘Well, let’s start with why I’ve been afraid, for so many years, that no man could ever love me.’

      He flinched and walked away from her to stare out of the window.

      ‘Exactly. You hurt me so badly that I lost my ability to trust men. Well, actually, it wasn’t all your fault. My father’s attitude played a large part in it, too. And then my aunt fostered that suspicion. Because she really, really hated men. She said I’d had a lucky escape anyway, because marriage was nothing but a trap for women. A cage in which some despotic male would lock her. I could understand why she thought like that, but I never wanted to end up like her. She was so...so miserable! She had so much money, but it never did her any good. It didn’t make her happy. It didn’t compensate for whatever it was that had set her off on her quest for revenge on the entire male sex.

      ‘When she died, I almost slid into the trap of becoming like her. Partly because I had to fight the men around me to hang on to what she’d left me. And I enjoyed winning. I won’t deny that I liked it a lot. I liked seeing bullies having to back down, rendering them powerless and sending them away with a flea in their ear.

      ‘But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to sit here like—well, you said it—like a spider in my web, holding all the threads together. I didn’t want to shrivel up inside, like she had, just because things hadn’t turned out the way I wanted.

      ‘Which was why I went to Paris in the first place. I needed to...break out. Find out what I wanted to do with my life. And then I met you.’

      She walked across the room to stand behind him. Tentatively she placed one hand on his shoulder.

      ‘I thought you were a penniless artist. And believing that of you was what gave me the courage to take you as a lover. If I’d known you were still comfortably off and only taking a sort of...holiday, I would never have been able to open up to you the way I did. Your privileged background had come between us before. It would have felt like an unbreachable barrier if you’d been swanning about Paris, trading on your right to be treated with the deference due to the son of an English earl. When you started making advances I would have been afraid you were only toying with me, the way I believed you’d toyed with me in the past.’

      He made a sort of growling noise and, though he didn’t turn round, she could see his cheeks flush. He might accuse her of lying, but he hadn’t been completely honest with her either.

      ‘And you wouldn’t have pursued me at all, had you known the extent of my wealth, would you?’

      ‘I thought I’d just made that perfectly clear.’

      ‘It wasn’t just my wealth that would have kept you away, Nathan. You didn’t know I was a virgin, either. You jumped to the conclusion that because I was with a man, I must be his mistress. You most definitely wouldn’t have got so jealous of poor Monsieur Le Brun if you’d known I was innocent of everything they told you about me. I suppose you might have still wanted to paint my portrait, perhaps as a memento of the girl you once loved, before I broke your heart and shattered your dreams, but not the rest.’

      ‘I—’

      ‘No, Nathan. Don’t you see? If we hadn’t both been trying to conceal some aspect of our lives, we would never have got together at all. There were too many obstacles. Too much hurt and suspicion on both sides. The way we got together was the only way it could have happened.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘But none of the things that would have kept us apart mattered one jot when we became lovers, Nathan, and don’t you dare try to say they did! We were just a man and a woman, rekindling a love we’d both mourned as lost. And it was a deeper, more meaningful love than the naïve, tentative relationship we started the first time round. Because we were both free to spend every moment with each other, untramelled by chaperons, or restrictions imposed by class. You cannot give up on it, just because you’ve found out I’m wealthy. It’s...stupid. And I know exactly how stupid because I did it first. I rebuffed you in just such a welter of suspicion that you are suffering from now. And I’ve spent the last few weeks working out that I’d been wrong to cast you as the villain of the tragedy I endured as a girl. You were as much a victim as I was.’

      ‘That was then,’ he growled. ‘This is different,’ he said harshly, spinning round so abruptly that it knocked her hand from his shoulder.

      ‘No, it isn’t,’ she said firmly. ‘We fell in love with each other in Paris and that hasn’t gone away. It cannot. Ten years and gallons of suspicion weren’t able to drown it. The moment we set eyes on each other again, neither of us could rest until we’d come together, in the fullest sense possible.’

      ‘It is no use, though,’ he said. ‘It cannot work.’

      ‘Of course it can work. It worked in Paris, didn’t it? So we can make it work again. If I can forgive you for believing the worst of me, if I can believe that you never proposed to me because you secretly wanted to gain control of my money, if I can stop fearing the loss of my independence, then surely you can see that I am not going to try to control you either? I know I wasn’t completely frank with you when we first met in Paris, but surely you can see I’m nothing like Lucasta? I want to marry you because I love you. You, Nathan. The man you are. I don’t want you to become something else. I don’t want to mould you, or push you, or treat you like a puppet by pulling your strings. I just want to make you happy.’

      ‘And