Page 41 of A Gentleman’s Offer

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Meg ran lightly down the stairs to Sir Dominic. ‘Come back into the drawing room,’ she said, heedless of the hovering servants, and led him with her into the chamber that had so recently been the site of the great family confrontation.

‘Is all well?’ she asked, drawing him down to sit by her, their hands clasped. ‘I was just saying to my mama and to Maria, I find it almost incredible that my father gave way so easily. They both agreed that if they had known he would crumble so readily and completely, they might have stood up to him years ago – Mama in particular. It seems so odd that it should be so.’

‘It’s hard for me to judge, since I have had so little to do with him before. But yes, all is well; the papers are completed, and Lord Nightingale has resigned control of all financial affairs. Francis is in charge now. He intends to insert an advertisement in the newspapers to say that Lord Nightingale has renounced all financial control of his affairs and all power to enter into contracts, and that anyone who claims to be his creditor must apply to Mr Clarke within a stated time, as no debts will be settled after that point. Once that is done, Meg, your father will have little standing in the world, and if he does spread rumours about anyone – you, my family, your sister – nobody will believe him, thinking it mere senile spite.’

‘Are we really free then, all of us? It hardly seems possible,’ she said wonderingly.

‘We are, my dearest love. And you are free to choose exactly what you wish to do. But I hope that what you wish to do is take me, though God knows I am yours already.’

He was holding his hand out to her in supplication, and she came swiftly to his side without a second’s hesitation. ‘What I wish to do is write, and travel, see the world, spend time with my mother and my sister, and live an interesting life at last.’ His handsome face was shuttered, expressing only polite interest, but she was beginning to know him better now, and could sense the deep anxiety that lay beneath his impassive exterior as he waited to hear what she would decide. He must know, after all that had passed, that she could ask for nothing more than to spend her life with him – but he needed to hear her say it. ‘And I wish to do it all with you. I do not say that there would be no joy or pleasure in a life without you in it – but I do not think there would be very much, my dearest. The world would be a dull pencil drawing, instead of full of bright and wonderful new colours. Will you marry me, Dominic, if all the confusion can be disentangled and it can be arranged? I hope you will. Remind me, though, exactly how long have I known you, sir?’

‘Oh, my darling, I have no idea. A few days, perhaps a fortnight, or forever. Just long enough for me to know that I love you beyond anything I had believed possible, and that my life will be a hollow shell if I cannot persuade you to marry me. It has been a hollow shell for the longest time, till I met you. But I hope you have needed no persuasion. I hope you know that I desire nothing more than the opportunity to make you happy. If you do not know it yet, I will devote my life to proving it to you.’

She squeezed his hand with fierce intensity. ‘Oh, Dominic, I do love you! Of course I do – how could I not? It is most mortifying to think that my sister was so entirely right and will never let me forget it! But am I to take her place, then, in my own name, and marry you next week? I don’t know if that’s even possible.’

‘I don’t know either, I must confess. It shall all be exactly as you wish – next week, or next month, or in six months’ time.’

‘Six months is a terribly long time to wait…’ she said, smiling up at him.

‘Well, I think so,’ he replied. ‘But I shall be guided by you and what you feel is right, my darling.’

She grinned up at him. ‘Well then, Dominic, I wish it to be next week.’

‘Then it shall be as you desire. Naturally it can be done – if I have you by my side, I feel I can move mountains. What is a mere clergyman or two, or even a bishop, to a man in love? I will overbear them and set all to rights, even if I must brave the Archbishop of Canterbury!’

‘I am very happy to hear it. But what shall we tell the world? Not that I care for that,’ she hastened to add. ‘You must know by now that I do not. But we are obliged still to think of Maria’s situation. It would be ridiculous to have come so far and done so much, and then to embroil her in a great scandal after all.’

‘In fact, my love,’ he said, his smile growing, as though a great spring of happiness were welling up inside him and could no longer be contained, ‘your brother believes he has the perfect solution to avoid the least suspicion of scandal, and I have a great desire to see your dear face as I tell you it. It seems that yet another member of your family has a talent for fiction.’

‘Go on!’ she said, torn between amusement and anxiety. It was true that Francis seemed a new man, full of vigour and resolution and determined to do the best for his family, but it was hard to imagine a solution that between them she and Dominic had not yet thought of.

‘Francis suggests, my angel, that we say nothing at all,’ he told her, his voice wavering on the brink of laughter. ‘Nothing at all, and let the information creep out – or not – on its own. This is where he is confident that your preposterous names would work to your advantage at last. I dearly regret that you were not there to hear him explain it to me. I have a great and growing affection for your brother, my love. He told me that if people should ever say in later years, “Dash it all, De Lacy, were you not meant to marry the lady’s sister? I could have sworn you were!” I should merely look blank and reply, “Of course I was not; what an odd idea, old fellow. Their names are so very similar, by Jupiter, I fear you must be confused!”’

Meg gasped and spluttered, and then they both burst into whoops of mirth, laughing so hard and so long that before they were done they were obliged to cling to each other for support.

At last Sir Dominic said, ‘The beauty of it is, he may well be right, marvel of nature that he is. It is almost impossible to underestimate how self-absorbed people are. If we act with great assurance, I am sure we can carry it off. Gossip generally comes when individuals behave as though they have something to hide, or something to lose. Or, of course, if you do dislike the beautiful idea, we can face everyone down boldly – take out an advertisement in the papers, and say, “Sir Dominic De Lacy and the Honourable Mr Francis Nightingale wish it to be known that the announcement previously made by Lord Nightingale of the marriage, etc., was inserted in error, and the lady in question is, in fact…” The implication would be that your father was not quite in his right mind when he made the arrangement. It is not perhaps in the best of taste, and will cause a great bustle at first, but if we are seen to be on good terms with your sister, nobody will think I have jilted her in your favour, or anything of that nature. There will inevitably be talk, but I am sure it will subside at length. It’s riskier than the first option, I believe, but it must be for you and your sister to decide between you.’

‘We must discuss it with her, and with my mama and with Francis, I suppose,’ she mused, mopping her eyes, little bubbles of laughter still rising in her every now and then. ‘Perhaps they may think of another solution. He is grown so excessively clever, he may have a dozen more startling ideas up his sleeve.’

‘I should not wonder at it, so let us do so. But not now! Your family – always excepting your father – are excellent people, my love, but I have had enough of talking for a little while…’ And then she was in his arms, held tight and close and secure, and they were laughing again and kissing each other all at once.

When their first excited flurry subsided, Meg found herself stretched languorously along the sofa, her body covered by Sir Dominic’s tall frame, though he had somehow contrived it that his weight did not oppress her; instead, she found she liked it. He was engaged in unfastening with great care the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons that closed the placket of her habit-shirt. His objective seemed to be to set his lips upon the bare skin of her neck and upper bosom which the fine muslin shirt so imperfectly concealed. ‘I must confess,’ he murmured against her flesh, making her shiver deliciously, ‘that there were moments in both of our recent serious and important family meetings when I was very gravely distracted by the sight of you in this garment, so nearly transparent as it is. The embroidery is exquisite, but your beautiful warm skin beneath it has been tantalising me almost beyond my power to endure it.’ At last he had unbuttoned her as far as he was able, and he pulled the fabric wide and began kissing his way down her neck, towards the swell of her breasts and the deep cleft between them. His hands were about her ribcage, and she wriggled in pleasure at the sensation of being so firmly held and so thoroughly worshipped. He was aware of her tiny movement instantly, so responsive was he, and whispered, ‘Am I holding you too tightly? God forbid that I should hurt you or make you uncomfortable.’

‘No,’ she almost moaned, bereft of the delicious pressure. ‘Not tightly enough! And don’t you dare stop!’

He chuckled and obeyed, and she fixed her hands deep in his glossy hair, giving herself up to sensation. She did not know how it had come about, but her shoes had come off, and Sir Dominic was lying snugly between her legs, her knees raised, her stockinged feet either side of his shiny hessian boots, rubbing against them, and against the back of his calves; this action conveniently caused her to spread her legs wider and raise her core so that her belly and her mound pressed up against his hard body, through the frustrating layers of fabric that covered them both.

He had discovered in his exploration that her bodice fastened at each side – the silk-covered buttons that ornamented it were not merely decorative, but functional too. Once he had undone them all, the silk folded down and revealed her chemise above her stays, made of the same fine Dhaka muslin as the shirt, and equally transparent. ‘My God,’ he said, very deep and low, and then his lips were on her nipple, which peaked obligingly to meet him, and he was sucking on her fiercely through the fabric. Her hands tightened in his hair and she whimpered in pleasure, wrapping her legs around him, her heels pressed against the backs of his thighs.

Her chemise closed with a ribbon, and once he had undone that by tugging determinedly on it with his teeth, he was able to push the thin, damp fabric aside and bring his lips and tongue directly to her naked, sensitised skin, making her moan with pleasure. She felt heat building inside her, begging for release and, scarcely aware what she was doing, she released his hair and took his right hand from her waist, raising it to her hot mouth, kissing and sucking on his fingers as she had done once before. He groaned in response, and moved his fingers in and out of her mouth, stroking the tender skin inside her lower lip, as he still tongued her hard, erect nipple and gripped her tightly with his other hand about the narrowest part of her body.

‘Touch me,’ she murmured against his wet fingers, nipping at them with her teeth. ‘Touch me now, Dominic, my love.’

Slowly and tantalisingly, he drew his fingers from her mouth, and raised his body from her so that he could slip his right hand up under her gown and petticoat. He brushed the top of her stockings and stroked the delicate skin there, above her knee, but she moaned impatiently and, laughing in breathless understanding, he made his way up her thighs to the damp curls between her legs. ‘Yes!’ she said fiercely as he slipped two seeking fingers between her lower lips, finding her swollen pearl of Venus as she jolted at the sudden contact and pressed herself against him. She was wet for him, and he used the evidence of her arousal to ease his movement around her delicious sensitive nub, and back and forth to her entrance. His mouth was still at her breast, and with an exquisite instinct for what pleased her, he presented her with his other hand to suck on, which she did eagerly.

Soon she was gasping against his fingers, then sucking on them hard as they moved in and out of her mouth, an action which he mimicked, slipping inside her and away again, building a rhythm as she arched her back and welcomed him. His slick thumb rubbed her clitoris and she peaked and clenched on his clever fingers, seeing stars exploding behind her closed eyelids as the almost unbearably intense waves of pleasure crashed over her and carried her away. He didn’t stop, mercilessly prolonging her spasms until at last she was obliged to moan an incoherent plea for release, or she would expire from pure sensation. He let her go, but claimed her mouth, kissing her long and deep and slow as she clung to him, the extremities of her body tingling as the waves ebbed.

‘What about you, my dearest love?’ she whispered at last against his lips, dizzy and satisfied, but conscious of the hard erection that had been pressing into her thigh all this long while, and showed no signs of diminishing.

‘Never mind me,’ he said between kisses. ‘I shall not die of it. It’s not so very long until we will be married, and there can be no question of debt between us, even a debt as delicious as this one. I will not take you here, however comfortable this sofa is. We have soft beds and short summer nights and long, long summer days in our future, my dearest love.’

‘You paint a delightful picture,’ she said, stretching like a cat and smiling up at him. ‘But nonetheless, I have been brought up to believe in equality between the sexes, and therefore, sir, I think it is high time you locked the door!’