Devilish Games of a Virtuous Lady: A Steamy Regency Romance

by Osborne, Scarlett

  * * *

  Letitia lay in bed, staring into the darkness. She could hear rain pattering against the roof.

  This, she felt certain, would be the last night she would ever spend in this attic room. Though she had been at the Radcliffe manor for less than a month, this room had become so familiar. This month had been the most pivotal of her life. This month she had lost herself, and in the process, had discovered more of her true nature than she had ever believed possible.

  That evening, she had helped Margaret prepare supper, baking the pigeon pie she had come close to perfecting. When the last of the empty dishes had been brought back to the kitchen, Letitia had set them on the bench and looked squarely at the cook.

  “There’s something I ought to tell you.”

  And out had come the truth of who she really was. Out had come the story of her running away, the story of her betrothal to the Duke.

  Letitia had felt it only right to tell the truth. After all, Margaret had dealt with far more than just Letitia’s questionable cooking skills. There had been her tears and moods, not to mention her regular attempts at running away.

  When she had finished speaking, Margaret had just folded her arms and nodded. “Well,” she said dryly, “that does explain rather a lot.”

  “I’m sorry I lied to you,” said Letitia.

  Margaret chuckled. The sound caught Letitia by surprise. She had never heard the woman laugh before. Had not believed her capable. “I’ve had far worse things done to me than a few little lies,” she snorted. She held out her hand. “Give me your apron. It’s hardly fitting for you to be down here, is it?”

  Letitia untied her apron hesitantly. “I don’t mind. I’ll help you finish cleaning. I—”

  “Your apron,” Margaret barked, making Letitia scramble for the laces. She tossed it hurriedly in the cook’s hand and scurried towards the door.

  “Was the Marquess pleased to learn all this?” Margaret called, making Letitia turn.

  “What?”

  Margaret chuckled again. “Lord Radcliffe. He must have been pleased to learn you weren’t no kitchen maid.” She looked slyly at Letitia. “I’d never seen him in the kitchen before. Not once in twenty years. Then you show up and he’s down here more often than the butcher boy.”

  Letitia’s cheeks colored. Unable to stop the smile from appearing in the corner of her mouth, she mumbled some kind of response, then hurried back up to the attic.

  Now it was late at night, and Margaret’s words were still spinning through Letitia’s head.

  “He must have been pleased to learn you weren’t no kitchen maid…”

  Letitia rolled restlessly onto her side, tugging the blanket up to her chin.

  In the morning, she would go back to the Mullins manor. She had gotten word to her mother that afternoon, explaining all that had happened. The Baroness’s reply had come back immediately, expressing her relief at her daughter’s safety, and her horror at her husband’s behavior. She had assured Letitia that when she returned home the next day, she would ensure the Baron was out of the house.

  A part of her was longing to return home. She had missed her mother dearly. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that when she left this place, she might never see Lord Radcliffe again.

  Deciding she was not going to sleep, Letitia climbed out of bed. She pulled her dress on over her nightshift and made her way downstairs. She would make herself a little tea. She had learned from experience that tea did nothing to help her sleeplessness, but it might at least keep her mind occupied for a time.

  The house was quiet as she made her way towards the kitchen. She gripped the stair rail tightly as she walked through the dark, inhaling the lingering scent of extinguished lamps. As she made her way down the hallway, she saw a faint orange glow beneath the door of the parlor.

  For a long time, she hovered outside it. This, she knew, was the real reason she had come downstairs. It was not about tea. It was about hoping against hope that she might stumble upon the Marquess.

  She stared down at the strip of light beneath the door.

  I can’t knock. It would not be appropriate.

  Go back upstairs.

  But the urge to see him kept her feet firmly planted to the floor.

  Before she could knock, the door clicked open, and Lord Radcliffe stood before her.

  Chapter 33

  “Oh,” Letitia spluttered, “I’m sorry, My Lord. I didn’t realize you were…” She had not even heard him coming. “I was just…” She turned hurriedly.

  “Don’t go,” Lord Radcliffe said.

  Letitia stopped, her back to him. Her heart was thumping hard.

  “You are a night owl,” he said, his voice low and gentle.

  Letitia smiled to herself. “No, My Lord. Just a little sleepless.”

  Finally, she dared to face him. His waistcoat was unbuttoned, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, as they had been that night in the coaching inn. His sandy hair hung over one eye.

  “You’re sleepless too,” Letitia said.

  “Yes.” Lord Radcliffe gestured to her to enter. “I find myself unable to stop thinking of the events of the day.”

  Letitia made her way into the parlor and perched on the edge of the chaise. A small fire was glowing in the grate, a lamp flickering on the side table. She knotted her hands together, her heart racing with anticipation.

  Lord Radcliffe sat beside her. Close enough for his knee to graze hers. Letitia felt that now-familiar warmth beginning to spread across her chest. Spread through to her toes, her fingers, through to her very core.

  She just had to see him again after she left the manor tomorrow morning. Now she had experienced this feeling, how was she to carry on without it in her life? How was she to carry on without him in her life?

  Lord Radcliffe reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His breath tickled her nose. Letitia clenched her hands more tightly. She couldn’t take her eyes from his lips. How desperately she longed to kiss him again.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said after a moment. “Or rather, show you.” He reached into his pocket and produced a neatly folded piece of paper. Lord Radcliffe’s name was written neatly on the front.

  In Letitia’s handwriting.

  “My letter,” she breathed. “I…” She pressed a hand to her chest. But what she was feeling was not horror, she realized. She wanted Lord Radcliffe to have read the letter. Wanted him to know the way she felt.

  I want him to know that when I leave this place tomorrow, my head and heart will be full of him.

  She looked down at the folded page. “How did you…”

  “Sarah gave it to me,” Lord Radcliffe told her. “The day you left this for me, I had some confidential documents on my desk. I told Sarah it was very important that she lock the office up once she had finished cleaning it.”

  Letitia frowned. “The office was open.”

  “Yes. Sarah admitted she had forgotten to lock it after she had done her cleaning. When she went back to do so, she discovered your letter. She thought to take it with her so I wouldn’t know she had let someone else inside.” He chuckled. “In the end, her guilt got the better of her. She admitted what she had done and gave me the letter.”

  Letitia felt intensely vulnerable. Had Sarah read the letter? Did she know the way Letitia felt about the Marquess?

  “Spending time in your presence has awakened feelings in me that are far from appropriate…”

  Her entire body felt as though it were on fire.

  Whether or not Sarah knew of her feelings for the Marquess was inconsequential. Lord Radcliffe himself knew.

  “You’ve known all this time?” Letitia squeaked.

  He nodded. “It was why I came after you. Why I followed you all the way to Northampton. I couldn’t let you go after learning all this.”

  Letitia let out her breath. She had wanted him to know of her feelings, yes, but it didn’t stop the color from raci
ng to her cheeks.

  Lord Radcliffe reached for her hand. “Please don’t be embarrassed, Miss Caddy. I cannot tell you how happy it made me when I read your words.”

  Letitia’s heart fluttered. She dared to look up at him. “It did?”

  Lord Radcliffe laced his fingers through hers. “More than you could know.” He lowered his eyes for a moment. When he looked back at her, his expression was almost shy. “There is one thing I need to know.” His grip on her hand tightened. “Does Letitia Caddy feel the same way about me as Molly Cooper?”

  Letitia cheeks grew rosier. Embarrassment? No. This wasn’t embarrassment. It was desire.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She looked downwards shyly, though she could feel a tiny smile on her lips. She managed a tiny nod. “Yes. Yes, My Lord, she does.”

  She heard Lord Radcliffe’s exhalation. Relief? Did he truly fear that she might not care for him?

  He pressed his palm against her cheek. His skin was warm against hers, his thumb moving gently. “You are not alone in feeling the way you do.”

  Letitia held her breath. She had known of Lord Radcliffe’s attraction to her. But was it possible that he might actually love her? Did she actually stand a chance of becoming this wonderful gentleman’s wife?

  Lord Radcliffe brought his hand from her cheek and intertwined her fingers with his. He shuffled across the chaise so their knees pressed together. Letitia felt a hot pulsing at the top of her thighs.

  “Before I met you, I thought I was happy,” Lord Radcliffe said. “I didn’t think I needed love. I thought the life I had was enough.” He smiled. “And then you appeared at my gate and changed everything.”

  Letitia returned his smile. He was right. That moment she had appeared at the Radcliffe gates, everything had changed.

  “I never thought I would feel this way again,” he said, his voice a gentle whisper.

  He leaned forward and kissed her impulsively. Letitia murmured, surprised at its suddenness. All too quickly, Lord Radcliffe pulled away, leaving Letitia’s lips parted, longing for more. Her entire body was blazing. Suddenly she cared little for her reputation, or her honor. All she wanted was to feel Lord Radcliffe’s hands on her body. She shifted on the chaise, burning with longing.

  “I promised I wouldn’t come near you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her ear. “I’m sorry. It seems I have far less control than I thought.”

  Letitia flashed him a playful smile. “It’s all right, My Lord. I’m rather glad you’re unable to control yourself.” Her words caught her by surprise. She had never said anything quite so forward in her life. A part of her could not believe she had said them. She nodded towards the letter, sitting beside them on the chaise. “And I’m also very glad you found that letter. I’m glad you know how I feel.” She pressed on, despite the warmth in her cheeks. “I’m glad you know how much I love you.”

  Lord Radcliffe’s eyes shone. “I love you too, Miss Caddy,” he said, his lips inches from hers. “More than you could know.” He tucked the letter in his pocket and took her hands in his, bringing them to his chest. “Now that I have you in my life, I can’t bear the thought of letting you go,” he said. “Marry me. Please. I want nothing more than to wake every morning beside you.”

  Letitia’s heart overflowed, the joy washing away the lingering bitterness over her father’s betrayal. Whatever happened between her and the Baron in the future, she would face it. And she would do it with Lord Radcliffe by her side.

  She lurched forward and pressed her lips hard against his. “Yes,” she gushed. “Of course I will marry you. Nothing in the world would make me happier than being your wife.”

  Epilogue

  Letitia pushed open the door of her childhood bedchamber. She let out her breath at the sight of it. It felt strange being back here at the Mullins manor. The room was achingly familiar. And yet so much had changed.

  The floor creaked noisily and Letitia looked up to see the Baroness approaching.

  Her mother stood by her side, their shoulders touching.

  “Are you all right, my love?” she asked gently.

  Letitia smiled. “Yes. Of course.”

  The Baroness reached for her daughter’s hand and squeezed. Letitia knew her mother had taken it hard when she had learned of all the Baron had done. Letitia had too, of course, but the love of her husband-to-be had gone a long way towards making it easier.

  Her father was nowhere to be seen. As promised, he had not been at the manor when she had arrived. She had not thought to ask where he had gone. She didn’t care. Perhaps one day she might attempt to repair their relationship. But for now, she needed distance.

  Letitia let her hand fall from her mother’s and stepped inside her bedroom.

  She lay back on her bed and stared up at the curtained canopy. The last time she had lain here, she had been so full of anger and fear. Anger at her father, at the Duke. Fearful of her impending escape. She had never thought to doubt her father’s words. Had never had any thought that he might lie to her.

  Her thoughts drifted to the Duke of Banfield. Now he was free of their betrothal, she hoped he would call on the lady he had come to care for. Letitia felt a smile on the edge of her lips. The Duke had shown himself a kind and decent gentleman. She hoped he found happiness.

  Letitia climbed from the bed and went to stand at the window, now tightly bolted against the winter. Specks of sleet splattered noisily against the glass. She glanced down at the roof below, and the ice-covered lattice leading down to the garden. She let out an incredulous laugh. Even now, she could barely believe she had the courage to climb out of it.

  She went to the book shelf. Her collection was untouched; volume after volume of stories that had helped her escape the world. Once, they had been all she had needed. All her adventure, her magic, her love she had gotten via the heroes and heroines inside the covers.

  To think of all I was missing out on…

  At the bottom of the shelf, one of the books was missing. The book about the pirate king. The book that now sat on Harriet’s night stand.

  Letitia smiled to herself. She began to pore through her collection. There would be plenty more books here that Harriet would enjoy. She and her new step-daughter would read together every night, ensconced in their nest of pillows on the floor of Harriet’s bedroom.

  I cannot wait for it.

  The life that lay ahead filled Letitia with excitement. Filled her with longing.

  In just a few short weeks, she would become Algernon Fletcher’s wife. Letitia thought of the way it had felt to feel his lips against her own. In just a few short weeks she would feel his body hot against her own.

  The thought made her heart speed and the warmth in her belly flare.

  She began to pull books from the shelf, building a pile to take to her new life. Was it too soon to be pulling her books from her shelves and thinking of the gowns she might take with her when she became Lady Radcliffe? Perhaps. But it didn’t matter. A few weeks had already begun to feel interminable. At least this task might go some way to keeping her occupied until the day she walked down the aisle.

  * * *

  The weeks leading up to their wedding had crawled by. Each time Letitia and her husband-to-be had called on each other, it had ended in a tight embrace and kisses that had grown increasingly passionate. Kisses that had kept out the cold, for certain, but had made Letitia ever more desperate for their wedding day to arrive.

  And now, at last, the day was here. Letitia stood in her bedchamber with a hand pressed to her racing heart, as her lady’s maid, Jenny, worked at the tiny row of buttons down the back of her pale blue gown. Letitia smiled at her reflection. Her blonde hair was pinned neatly on top of her head, loose tendrils framing her face. She couldn’t wait for Algernon to see her. The sight of her dressed like this would surely take his breath away.

  He fell in love with me while wearing stolen servants’ clothing, after all…

  Jenny fini
shed buttoning and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Oh Miss,” she gushed. “You look ever so beautiful.”

  Letitia smiled. “Thank you, Jenny. Thank you for everything.”

  She turned at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. There was a light knock on the bedroom door. Jenny pulled it open to reveal Letitia’s father.

  Letitia swallowed heavily. She had been expecting the Baron’s arrival, she reminded herself. But the reminder did nothing to ease the knot in her stomach.