A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)

And … and damned if he would steal her innocence like a thief. Not when she would soon belong to him, by rights.

With great reluctance, Toby marshaled his will and released her breast. Framing her face in his palms, he gently pulled her away. Her labored breaths raced his. Resting his forehead against her lovely brow, he whispered, “Darling, I’m sorry. We really should stop.”

He saw the flush of guilt creeping up her face.

“I know, I know,” she said. “It’s wrong. I know it, but…” She chewed her lip. “You make me want to do things I know I shouldn’t.”

With a soft laugh, he pressed a kiss to her brow. “Funny, isn’t it? You make me want to do the things I’ve always known I should.”

“Shall we suit one another, do you think?”

“Splendidly.” And he meant it. The past few minutes had banished any of his concerns about their compatibility. During that kiss, they had suited one another to the ground. He couldn’t resist stealing one more. And then another. Nuzzling her ear, he murmured, “It’s a fortunate thing we’re getting married soon.”

“Oh, yes.” She straightened and inched away, putting distance between them. Passion had been put aside, and her typically placid demeanor had returned. “We couldn’t possibly wait any longer. I only wish we could marry today. I hope the timing of the wedding won’t interfere with your campaign.”

Toby blinked. “My … my campaign.”

“What a shame, that we’ll have to postpone the honeymoon. But I expect the Lake District will be just as lovely in August as it would have been in July.”

“Postpone the honeymoon? What on earth are you talking about?” Brushing a finger across the tip of her nose, he joked, “Isabel, perhaps that fever affected you more seriously than we thought.”

She went rigid, instantly. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing,” he soothed. “Nothing at all.” He slid his fingertip along her jaw. “But my word, you’re so beautiful when you take offense. I’m the one who’s addled, darling. I don’t seem to be following you. Take pity on a besotted fool and explain it again, a little more slowly.”

Smiling again, she pulled a newspaper from the table beside her and held it out to him.

“Haven’t you heard? The Prince Regent is expected to dissolve Parliament tomorrow. It’s in all the newspapers. Polling will begin within a few weeks.”

Toby stared at the newspaper she’d handed him, trying in vain to form a response. She couldn’t possibly be serious. Isabel laid a hand on his sleeve, and his gaze jerked up to hers.

“Isn’t it perfect?” she said, a smile spreading across her face. “Our grand wedding, followed so closely by your candidacy? We’re certain to be the talk of London, if not all England. At last, you’ll have your place in the House of Commons, and I’ll be …” She blushed and dropped her eyes. “I’ll be your wife. I’ll be Lady Aldridge.”

Good God. She was serious. She expected him to postpone their honeymoon and run for Parliament in a few weeks. Toby, on the other hand, had no wish to run for Parliament in a few weeks. Nor in a few years, for that matter. Not when he’d successfully invested a decade in avoiding that very task.

“Darling, there’s no need to be in a hurry. Governments come and go. Our wedding will only happen once. Let’s enjoy our honeymoon, and then I can run for Parliament the next time there’s an election called.”

“But that will be years from now.”

Yes, precisely.

“Besides,” he continued, “you’ve been ill. You need rest, not the strain of a political campaign.”

“But the prospect of the campaign is what’s made me feel better! As soon as I saw the paper, I knew I must resolve to recover my strength. You will need me, to stand by you and work with you. Oh, Toby,” she said, her dark eyes shining. “Think of all the good we will do together.”

He swallowed and looked back at the newspaper. So this was what had prompted her swift recovery, her determination to regain her health and marry him as planned—the prospect of an election. Not the prospect of being with him. A bitter taste filled his mouth. “I’m sorry, Isabel, but I just don’t think this is the time.”

Her eyes grew sharp. “What do you mean? I thought you understood when we became engaged, that I sought a match for political and social influence. You told me you would be serving in the House of Commons.”

“I know, but—”

She mimicked his baritone. “‘Even I could have a seat in Commons, lowly sir that I am.’ Those were your words.”

“Yes, I know, but—”

“But what?” She looked near tears.

He touched her cheek. “But I thought… there is something between us now. Something real and undeniable, and stronger than any words carelessly uttered on a verandah.” He leaned forward to kiss her.

She pulled away. “Desire, you mean?”