Miss Cameron's Fall from Grace

‘Your behaviour was reckless and totally irresponsible. Now you must pay the price. He will have to marry you, of course—and he will, if he is a gentleman, which I am beginning to doubt.’

Delphine had never seen her mother’s face as it was then. Her eyes were hard, looking through Delphine as if she were a whore rather than her own daughter. Her eyes dropped to Delphine’s waist and then back to her face.

‘What if there is a child? Have you considered that?’

A cold, dreadful shock seized Delphine’s every nerve and the blood drained from her face. In her innocence she had not thought of this; lying beneath Colonel Fitzwaring, she had not considered the full consequences of his act.

When Delphine opened her mouth to speak, her mother held up her hand, quivering with fury and indignation. ‘Be quiet. What you have done is nothing short of wicked. It pains me to say it, you—you Jezebel. I shudder to think how your father will react to this. You are a disgrace.’

John Cameron was a short, stocky man of Scottish descent, with whitening tawny hair and a temper that was easily roused. He was summoned right away and when he’d heard what his wife had to say, his anger was like an explosion.

‘I always knew no good would come of your visiting that orphanage—however good your intentions. No,’ he blustered, red to the ears and puffing out his barrel chest, ‘you’ve made your bed. Lie on it. You are absolutely ruined unless the man marries you. You do realise that, don’t you, Delphine?’

She straightened up and looked directly at her father. ‘I have made a mistake, a grievous and awful mistake, and I will have to live with the consequences—but marriage?’

‘Absolutely. Thank God the man’s credentials are fitting.’

‘He won’t marry me.’

‘We’ll see about that. If Fitzwaring thinks he can ruin my good name by seducing one of my daughters and then go flitting off back to Spain, he is grievously mistaken. He’ll pay for it; I’ll make damned sure of that.’

Helplessness, bleak as the grave, descended on Delphine, but she was powerless to speak, powerless to stand against the combined forces of her parents when their minds were made up.

Two days later her father summoned her. Fully expecting another scolding, she proceeded to her father’s study, patting her hair into place. He was standing with his back to the fireplace.

‘Come in, Delphine.’ He nodded towards the tall man looking out of the window with his back to her. With his feet planted firmly apart, his hands behind his back, attired in his military uniform of scarlet jacket and white trousers, he stood stiff and unyielding. ‘You are already acquainted with Colonel Fitzwaring, of course.’

Delphine’s heart gave a fearful leap. Her initial surprise at her father’s summons was stirred into a sudden tumult of emotions by Colonel Fitzwaring’s presence. He turned and looked at her with those incredible midnight-blue eyes of his. The glare of his red jacket hurt her eyes; for one wild, unreasoning moment her life flared into vivid, lively colour, her familiar surroundings fading away into the background. She was conscious of an unwilling excitement. In fact, much to her annoyance, she was very much aware of everything about him—the long, strong lines of his body, the skin above the jacket, tanned and healthy—and she was surprised to see faint lines of weariness on his face.

Conscious of those searing eyes on her, with trembling fingers she clutched the neck of her gown, remembering that dark gaze and its seeming power to strip the clothes from her, leaving her body bare. Yes, she remembered him. She knew him by her own response to him—needle-sharp chills—but there was no sign of her lover of three nights ago.

In an atmosphere bristling with tension, with an effort she said, in the coldest and most condescending manner, ‘Yes, we are. Good day, Lord Fitzwaring.’

‘Miss Cameron.’ He bowed, and there was a touch of irony in his mocking tone as he lowered his shining dark head.

Stephen’s blood was pumping through his veins. He had not expected Lord Cameron to deliver such a robust lecture on the rules he felt Stephen had broken. As a result Stephen was alert; his consciousness was fine-honed as a sharp blade. The black pinpoints of his dark-blue eyes shot fire.

Delphine had never seen such a look in a man’s eyes before. It reminded her of sparks shooting from the glow of a fire. His presence filled the room. He didn’t speak. Waiting, Delphine shivered. Silence was a weapon, she realised, and there were men who knew how to use it to deadly effect. Stephen Fitzwaring was one such man. It seemed no one was prepared to speak in his presence unless spoken to. He had the dynamism of a military commander and he was using silence aggressively, to assert his power.

‘You are here because my father asked you to come. Is that not so, Lord Fitzwaring?’

‘It is. You are well, I trust?’

Delphine actually flinched at the cold, ruthless fury in his eyes as they raked over her. She did not want to disappoint her father now, having decided the moment she’d set eyes on Colonel Fitzwaring to keep her composure, but the effort of holding herself in check in the presence of this arrogant man was too much.

‘As you see,’ she replied icily, suspecting he would rather face the full might of Napoleon’s army than be present at her home today, ‘I have survived our last encounter without scars.’ This was hardly the truth, but she would not grant him the satisfaction of telling him so.

The impact of his gaze was no less potent for the distance between them. He took a step closer, his powerful, animal-like masculinity assaulting her senses. Melting inwardly, she felt her traitorous body offer itself to this man; in that moment they both acknowledged the forbidden flame that sparked between them, both angered by their inability to control it. He raised one well-defined eyebrow, watching her, a half-smile now playing on his lips. He seemed to know exactly what was going on in her mind.

But Stephen would have none of it. The army was of the utmost importance to him—he had no time for marriage and affairs of the heart. A man who loved too well was vulnerable. Certainly he yielded to the desires of the flesh as much as the next man. Many women had passed through his life—some had faded from memory and a few he had felt affection for, but never doted on, excepting one, a beautiful, callous and treacherous woman, whom he had left with the bitter belief that love was only for the young and idealistic. He liked mature women, women who understood the rules of the game, women who accepted the fact that affairs ran their course and expected nothing more.

His main aim in life, while the military campaign was ongoing in Spain, was to concentrate on developing his mind and spirit for action on the field of battle—until he’d had the misfortune to encounter this infuriating, if beautiful, young woman. How could he have known that she was the daughter of one of London’s elite? His lust had led him into a trap of his own making—now he must pay the price of his passion.

Chapter Three

Lord Cameron looked at his daughter. He had not been made aware of the facts that had drawn Delphine into this man’s bed, nor did he wish to be, but unless the Colonel wanted to make a damned fool of himself and create a scandal, he would have to do the honourable thing and marry her. But she should be warned not to anger him overmuch, for, as he had discovered to his cost when he had sought the man out to confront him, the man had a temper and Delphine would do well to heed that.

‘Lord Fitzwaring has confirmed that you did indeed have … relations at the Blue Boar three nights past. Since I am a man of honour, I wanted to be sure of the facts before I asked him to do the right thing by you.’

Delphine tilted her head to one side as she considered her seducer coldly. ‘And will you, Lord Fitzwaring? Do the right thing by me, I mean,’ she said, resenting his effect on her, the masculine assurance of his bearing.

‘Of course. Your father and I have discussed the matter and it is our intention to see that you are cared for.’

‘Indeed?’ She laughed lightly, a laugh laced with bitterness. ‘I can vouch for my father’s concern, but when I recall your less-than-gentlemanly treatment of me on our previous encounter, you must forgive me if I doubt yours, my lord. Do you think it pleases me to plead for my salvation from the man who stole my virginity? Do what you will. Seek out your own pride and honour, but do no hope to find your conscience clean and laundered at my door, Colonel.’

Stephen’s face hardened and his eyes took on a malignant expression. ‘I would advise you to have a care,’ he ground out, leaning forwards slightly so that his furious eyes were level with hers. ‘I did not have to come here today. I could have pleaded ignorance due to my inebriated state at the time and told your father that he was mistaken.’

In no mood to be charitable or diplomatic, Delphine smiled mockingly into his eyes. ‘Your head was sodden with drink—that I do remember—and I also recall you have a rather attractive little mole on your—’

‘Enough,’ he thundered, thoroughly enraged by this chit.

Delphine watched the man’s temper fraying—his eyes were dark and strong emotion was choking him.

Bringing himself quickly under control, in a more reasonable tone he said, ‘I cannot do more than apologise for my conduct and offer recompense. I have told your father that I am willing to marry you and he has my guarantee that you will be supported in a manner suitable to your upbringing.’

Delphine’s lips curved in what resembled a sneer rather than a smile. She could sense the slowly burning anger in him at being manipulated into marrying her. ‘How extremely generous of you, Lord Fitzwaring. Where do you propose we start?’

Her father looked at her with cold eyes. ‘Enough, Delphine. You are too impertinent. You would do well to watch your manners. It is because of your disobedience and your determination to flout the rules that govern the lives of respectable young ladies that you find yourself in this mess. Can’t you get it through your head that you are sullied—damaged goods? By any moral code you are disgraced. If your affair with Lord Fitzwaring comes to light and it becomes known that you are no longer virtuous, every door in London will be slammed in your face.’

Delphine stiffened with indignation. ‘Papa, it was not an affair. I—’

‘Silence. Your mother and I always said you were a lost cause. This latest in a long line of escapades proves we were right. It is with considerable distaste that I do this, but I must, for your sake, insist that Lord Fitzwaring brings you to the altar.’

Delphine seethed with anger and humiliation. Her father was asking her to enter into a binding contract to change her life, something that would determine her entire future. She had seen so little of the world and knew so little of men. She had attended only a few sedate gatherings with her mother, only a handful of dances and soirées. She had not mixed in society like most girls of her age and all she had to measure Stephen Fitzwaring against were the men who came to call on her twin sisters, Rose and Fern, and the men who had married her older sisters. For the most part she found them boring and not in the least appealing. Stephen Fitzwaring was not like any one of them.

‘But I have no desire to wed Lord Fitzwaring.’

‘It is not open to discussion. He has agreed, though God knows that if I were a violent man I would take a horsewhip to him. Because of him, if this is not dealt with in the proper manner, you will be subjected to public censure and a scandal that will ruin you and make us a laughing stock. Which is why, two days hence, the two of you will be married by special licence.’

Completely taken aback, Delphine’s eyes widened with alarm. ‘Why the haste?’

Stephen raised a finely arched brow. ‘My duties call me back to Spain immediately,’ he informed her coolly.

‘Indeed?’ She tossed her head imperiously. ‘That is no great disappointment to me.’

Stephen’s eyes narrowed with irritation. ‘You are severely lacking in respect and discretion when you speak to me. When I am your husband, things will be different.’

His words failed to anger her. She gave him that amused smile, slightly scornful, such as she had seen her father give on occasion, which generally infuriated people.