He halted them to look at her directly. “I’ve had three years, during which a host of women have given birth without disaster. However, none of them were put in danger by me, and none will be.”
“Smile,” Ariana said, following her own advice. “Or people will think we’re in discord, and heaven knows what they’ll make of that.” Smiling, they approached the Esterhazys, who were happy to discuss the impossibility of enjoyable sin in Mr. Peake’s cellars. They continued to move through the house, generally being greeted with assurances that the whole story was clearly a fabrication and wishes that the culprits could all be flogged.
An account of the popular event was already on its way to the principal newspapers, accompanied by an illustration of prominent people in the cellars. The newspapers wouldn’t be able to use the illustration, but it would enforce the story. By the morning various prints would be posted in shopwindows, their appeal enhanced by the presence of notables, including ambassadors and dukes. Ariana couldn’t imagine how Mr. Peake had enticed such big guns to his impromptu event, but then a very grand cannon arrived—Prince Frederick, the royal Duke of York.
He arrived with a modest entourage, but apparently he’d agreed ahead of time that he could be shown in an illustration, taking an interest in Peake’s stores of exotic items—that was, the unlikely scene of the crime. He dutifully visited the cellars, and then went throughthe house, being amiable to all and showing what seemed to be a genuine interest in Peake’s collection.
He paused by Ariana and Kynaston to commiserate with them at being the target of baseless malice. “In the royal family, one has to become accustomed, but it’s beyond anything that ordinary people be a target for such malice.” Ariana supposed an earl and an earl’s daughter were very ordinary to a prince.
Peake drew them aside to his small private office, to give them the first proofs of tomorrow’s prints to look over. He went away, leaving them alone.
“We’ll stop them using that one,” Kynaston said, pointing to one that showed him and Ariana against a display of spears. It definitely gave the impression that an announcement was to be expected.
“It’s to show us fully dressed and decent,” she said. “Anything in the cause.”
His lips tightened, but he didn’t protest further.
“The prince in the cellars will be popular,” she said, “and the reproduction of the Egyptian mural. That should set the right scholarly tone.”
“You’re being relentlessly cheerful.”
“What else am I to do?” she asked, even though her heart was aching. This evening had been the longest time they’d spent together, and now they were alone, but a shield stood between them, created by his will. He’d made himself absolutely clear. He would never put another woman in danger of childbirth, and thus he wouldn’t marry.
She might argue for a celibate marriage, but she knew it wouldn’t be possible. Even when they were in public and acting a decorous part, the fires had stirred. Now she hungered to insist upon a kiss. A kiss like the one they’d shared, but more so.
Leading to more.
Walks in gardens would never be enough....
Perhaps he sensed her thoughts, or even felt the same temptation. “We should go,” he said, and steered her out of the room. His touch on her arm sent shivers through her.
This was intolerable and so unfair! How could she change his mind? Perhaps Hermione would have some wisdom to offer.
She was startled when Norris tugged her aside. “You don’t have to cling to him all night, do you?”
“I suppose not. What’s the matter?”
“Phyllis says he’s still adamantly opposed to her marrying.”
They were in the busy entrance hall. “Norris, this is hardly the place to discuss it.”
“I need to know. Do you think he’ll change his mind?”
This truly wasn’t the place, but he wouldn’t be denied. “In all honesty, not soon. He has reasons.”
“I can improve. I’ll take perfect care of her.”
“Not here. We can discuss it tomorrow and see if we can devise something. Did you see that Hermione Merryhew’s here? Faringay now, of course.”
“What do I care for that?” He almost ran a hand through his fashionably arranged hair but then collected himself. “Very well. Very well.”
Ariana put a hand on his arm. “Truly I understand how strongly you must feel. But a short time of waiting won’t be intolerable.”
“You’re the one who wanted me married by Christmas.”
“I’ve learned a little patience.”
He covered her hand with one of his. “You’re the best sister a man could have.”
