Charlotte started to laugh but stopped when he did not join in. “Y-You are not serious?”
Richard nodded. “More serious than I have been about anything else.”
“But you must see that hosting a ball is completely impossible!” Charlotte stared at him in amazement. “You have said yourself how delicate our financial situation is at the present time, and who knows how many more bills or debts from Arnold will arrive that we have no notion of! A ball? Our finances are in ruins and debts are undoubtedly owed to tradesmen across Bath and London!”
“Tabitha is worth the expense.”
“I am not saying Tabitha is not worth it,” Charlotte said gently, “even as I ignore the suggestion that a woman can be purchased in such a way. But Tabitha, for all I have heard of her and all you have said, is not one to be impressed by big shows of splendor.”
Richard swallowed. He had not considered that.
“—and even more importantly,” continued Charlotte, “she may not even be aware the ball is for her in the first place. I think you will find she just wants someone to care for her.”
He thought about their encounter outside the Pump Room.
“That was not an acceptance of your offer. I spoke the truth before. If you want to make love to me, Richard, you will have to marry me.”
The mere thought of her made him stir uncomfortably in his chair, but he was determined. A ball would be the perfect place for him to seduce her, finally, with the commitment of nothing more than a night of delectable and sordid pleasure.
After that…who knew? Perhaps he would be able to convince her to enter into an agreement that was more long term.
“I know what I am doing, Lotty,” he said gruffly. “I can find the money from somewhere.”
Charlotte shook her head with a smile. “There must be an easier way to spend time with a young lady. If a gentleman asked me to take a walk with him, or play cards, or talk about books, or—”
“Anything like that would be construed as courting,” he interrupted with a wave of his hand. “I am not courting her, Charlotte. I do not intend to marry Miss Chesworth. She knows that.”
His sister rolled her eyes and rose from the armchair. “If you keep saying that so determinedly, one day you may even convince yourself.”
Chapter Nine
This was not going well.
Richard tapped his foot impatiently and fought the impulse to snap at the servant who once again offered him a glass of punch. The last thing he wanted was a drink, and the longer he stood here like an absolute fool, the more frustrated he became.
It had taken just over a week to organize the ball, a feat Charlotte had not believed possible—but here they were. The Bath Assembly Rooms had been unavailable, forcing him to half the guest list and host it in their home, and despite the hours spent ensuring the best food, hiring the best musicians, and shouting at his valet, Graham, to retie his cravat…she had not come.
Richard glared at one of the servants hired especially for the ball, who was returning with a bottle of wine, and the man swerved away.
What kind of a man was he, making others physically fear him because one woman had not responded to his invitation? He had been sure he would receive her acceptance that morning, and he had almost knocked Matthews to the ground when the butler had brought in the morning’s letters.
But she had not replied, and he had been standing by the front door for nearly an hour, hoping she’d appear.
“Axwick!” Montague Cavendish, Duke of Devonshire, strode into the hallway and bobbed his head in a bow. “Now, I have never been able to persuade you before, but I am sure at your own ball you cannot refuse me! A hand of cards—perhaps two?”
“No, Cavendish,” Richard said curtly. He had intended his gruff tone to dissuade the duke, but it appeared to have the opposite effect.
Cavendish smiled good naturedly, rising to the challenge. “Come now, Axwick, ’tis just a game! We will not even bring money into it, if you don’t wish to…”
“I have never picked up a deck of cards,” he said, his temper flaring. “And I will not now. Go and find better friends to play with.”
Cavendish stared and shook his head as he left, offended by his host’s words.
It was bad form to be short tempered with his friend, especially one whom he had known for years, as far back as Eton. A nagging panic gripped his gut. Tabitha was not going to come.
It was ridiculous, and Charlotte had told him so the minute he had suggested it. He’d been arrogant to believe he would be enough to tempt her! Even if she did not enjoy balls, surely his company, or the promise of his company, would be enough?
A pair of giggling ladies wandered through the hallway and snorted at the sight of him standing there alone.
Richard ignored them. Perhaps it had been the speed of it all. Under a week, that had been all the notice given to his guests. He was surprised so many of them had not already been engaged for other events, and a small part of him suspected that some of them had been but had cancelled for the honor of being invited by a duke, him no less.
Sometimes the family name, ancient and respected as it was, had its uses.
But it was not enough for Tabitha. He had wanted to give her the invitation in person and had attended the Pump Room the very next day, but she had not been there. He had even checked the subscription book and had not missed her.
In fact, he had gone there the next three days…to no avail.
Miss Tabitha Chesworth had not appeared, and Richard had put up with the indignity of standing in silence as gentlemen and young ladies stared at him.
Before he had met Tabitha, he would have appreciated the attention from the ladies. He would have found one willing to give him what he wanted, and that would have been the end of that.
Yet, his mind ran only on Tabitha. Was she avoiding him? Had she been offended by the passionate kisses he had stolen from her? Had she perhaps found a gentleman equally determined to make her happy and content to be taken up the aisle?
“Richard?”
It was rare he did not feel pleased to see his sister, but she was simply not the woman he wanted to see.
“Not now, Charlotte,” he snapped.
Charlotte’s eyebrows raised as she smoothed the creases in her gown. “You know,” she said quietly so only he could hear her, “you are very lucky I love you, because there is Miss Chesworth.”
Richard whipped around in the direction his sister was pointing.
She was beautiful. More than that, breathtaking. Tabitha stood in the doorway, her hair placed elegantly high on her head with a few diamond pins glittering in the candlelight. As she stepped into the hallway, Matthews carefully removed her pelisse to reveal a shell-pink gown that shimmered with silver threading and silk at the hem. A tiered, diamond necklace showed off her slim neck and her eyes…
Richard tried to breathe. Her green eyes were shining with such anticipation, it was all he could do not to rush over to her, take her in his arms, and ravage that delicious mouth.
She thanked Matthews, and he replied with words Richard could not catch. She laughed, and what a sound! It deepened his desire for her, not just for her body, but to be with her, to be the one making her happy, to be the one sharing her secrets.
“Umm…” Richard attempted to form a coherent thought.
His sister laughed and obviously had been waiting for him to speak. Tabitha looked up from Matthews and saw him and Charlotte standing together, and her cheeks flushed.
Was it too much to hope that he had elicited such a response? Richard’s hands were clenched, and he forced himself to release them. This was no time for youthful panic. This was his ball, her ball, and his chance to win her.
Tabitha stepped forward and curtsied to Charlotte, who returned the gesture.
“I am glad you were able to come, Miss Chesworth,” Charlotte said politely with a smile.
“I am aware I have not answered the invitation formally, Lady Charlo
tte, and I must apologize for it. I was called away to London the afternoon I last saw your brother.”
She finally gazed at him, and a surge of pride overcame him at hearing her acknowledge him and for the evident embarrassment it had caused her.
“Your grace,” said Tabitha, turning to her hostess once more. “I only returned this morning, and I was mortified to find your invitation had not been given the proper attention. It is very gracious of you to still receive me.”
The two women spoke as relief washed over Richard.
She was not ignoring him or avoiding him. She had been neither offended nor repulsed by him. She had been in London.
“…pleasant to see you,” Charlotte said. “You must come to dine with us sometime this week, Miss Chesworth, I—”
“Why did you go to London, Miss Chesworth?” The two stopped talking and stared at him.
“London?” Tabitha repeated.
He nodded. “To leave Bath in the middle of the Season. There may have been people here who missed your company. I believe there were.”
Had he said too much? No, she had understood him. Her gaze dropped, but she did not step away from him or make any excuses.
“Richard,” Charlotte murmured with eyes blazing. “You simply cannot accost your guests in the hallway and demand they tell you why…”
“I went to visit a friend,” Tabitha answered. “A close friend, one whom I have wished to see for a long time.”
“A gentleman friend?”
Her smile widened. “Perhaps. What difference would it make to you?”
Why does she have such an effect on me? Richard could not understand it. Dozens of chits had wandered in and out of his life, yet none had captured his attention like this. But none had looked up at him with eyes quite like hers.
“Your secrets are yours to keep, I am sure,” he said, attempting to keep his tone light and playful. “But I would be grateful, Miss Chesworth—Tabitha—if you would keep me informed of any gentleman callers who start to pay their respects to you. I am…interested to know.”
His words had quite an effect on the two women before him. Charlotte’s jaw dropped, and she glanced around them to ensure no one else had heard his scandalous remark. Tabitha, on the other hand, had not taken her eyes from him. Her lips curled into a smile.
What made him say that? Richard was falling deeper into something he did not understand, and he needed to stop it. He needed to pull himself together.
“Would you like to dance, Tabitha?”
If Charlotte had looked shocked before, it was nothing to the incredulity now on her face. Tabitha flushed as he used her name in public.
“What is the matter, Miss Chesworth? You cannot refuse?”
He knew she would understand his reference and was not disappointed.
Tabitha had a wicked glint in her eyes. “Why, your grace, this is one of the few offers of yours I am more than happy to accept.”
It felt like a bolt of lightning shot through his body as she took his hand. This made every pound spent on this ball worth the cost.
Every head turned as they entered the dance floor. It was strange. He usually commanded the attention, but he knew it was the rare beauty standing beside him.
The dancing had not yet begun, and Richard had instructed the musicians to not even consider picking up their instruments until he entered the room with a lady on his arm. Once it was clear he was ready, they played the opening notes to The Maid of Bath, and there was a rush to join the Duke of Axwick in the first set of the night.
He did not care about the other guests. Tabitha had captured his unwavering admiration and left him transfixed.
The dance began, and as they drew together in a line, Tabitha smiled at him.
“To tell the truth,” she whispered, “I have not stopped thinking about our kiss.”
Filled with fire at such words, Richard gazed at her with such intensity, he was surprised she did not burst into flames.
“And yet,” he said in a low voice as they joined hands, “I have not stopped thinking about doing many other things to you.”
Her innocent blush sent him over the edge. She had not dropped her gaze as she licked her lips slowly.
It felt like torture, a slow death not being able to speak to her privately, to touch her.
Without warning, he grabbed Tabitha’s hand and pulled her away from the set. It caused several people to whisper things he did not care to hear.
“Axwick, where are we going?”
He did not answer as he pulled her through the crowd. Judging the reaction of his guests, they must think him as wild as his brother and father. But why should he give a damn? He was his own man.
He ushered Tabitha through the hallway and along a corridor, not stopping until they reached his library.
He locked the door and leaned against it.
She raised an eyebrow. “Should I be afraid of you, Axwick?”
“I thought you called me Richard now?” he asked, drinking in the sight of her.
“You are Axwick when you misbehave,” she said with a smile. “Richard when you are being good.”
Oh, to have her call his name in the throes of passion. He hardly knew whether he preferred Axwick or Richard.
Axwick when you misbehave, Richard when you are being good.
He groaned. “Tabitha, you have no idea what you do to me. As for locking the door, do you distrust me?”
She did not reply immediately, turning away to look around the room. “Why should I trust you at all?” She walked around the table in the center of the room. “I hardly know you. I know you are the sixteenth Duke of Axwick and have a sister. If you tell me more, I’ll know if you are lying.”
Richard swallowed. This was not the direction he wanted their conversation to go. The less she knew about his family, the better for them both.
“You have been more secretive,” he countered with what he considered his most cunning smile. “For I do not even know whether you have siblings.”
Her soft smile remained, and she finally broke their gaze by picking up a book from the table and flicking through the pages. The silence between them lingered, and Richard felt an overpowering need to fill it.
Eventually his patience was rewarded, and Tabitha lifted her eyes to him once more. “I am an only child.”
Richard stepped forward, but Tabitha seemed to have expected that, and while still facing him, she moved around the table, keeping him at a safe distance.
“What about your parents?” he asked.
Tabitha hesitated at his question. “My mother’s name is Mary.”
“And your father?”
“Paul. He…he died ten years ago, when I was young.”
Something cracked in her voice, and it jolted Richard’s heart as he cursed himself for bringing up something painful.
“I am sorry,” he said gently. “I did not mean to ask such a personal question. Forgive me.”
He had started moving again, desperate to be near her, to comfort her, hold her, caress her, but Tabitha laughed and countered his every stride.
“You do not need to apologize,” she said with an airy voice, placing the book on the table between them. “I mourned him little. He was a gambler and a reprobate.”
Richard stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her, his feelings of lust transformed into compassion. What in God’s name were the chances her father’s sins were the same as his own family’s?
“A gambler?”
Tabitha nodded. As she moved again, her gown rustled. “Yes. Despite many family members telling me I would end up the same…” She took a deep breath. “I have not. And I will never be like him. One’s nature can be overcome.”
Richard took an unconscious step back and lowered his head with a laugh. This similarity could never have been predicted. It was fate, perhaps something deeper.
All the fire left him, leaving him dangerously vulnerable. “It is good to hear such words.”
Gentle hands enclosed his, and he was surprised to find that she had moved around the table.
“Why?” she asked.
Richard wanted to tell her everything. All he could do was stare, amazed by her sense of compassion.
“I can see the pain in your eyes. This has everything to do with you not wishing to marry—but you can overcome those fears.”
For the first time in Richard’s life, a woman felt right in his arms—shared the same sorrows. Her warm fingers, heart, spirit, made him feel…
“Shall I tell you what I see?” she asked gently. “I see only strength in you, not weakness.”
Richard laughed bitterly. “I am not strong where you are concerned.”
“Then I will be strong for the two of us,” Tabitha said with a faint smile. “I have never felt more empowered or alive than when I am with you—like I could accomplish anything.”
Then she was kissing him, and Richard clutched wildly at her, desperate for her as though she was the only water in the world, and he was a fire that had to be put out. The passion he poured into the kiss nearly drained him. She clawed at his collar to bring him closer, as though it would never be near enough.
Richard groaned at the feel of her, his hands on her waist, tugging her toward him, luxuriating in the feel of her. His desire was so potent, she stepped back, into the bookshelves.
She gasped, and Richard chuckled, for she was once again trapped.
“Is this the same trick you play on all the women you seduce? Take them to the library?”
“Never,” Richard breathed. “No, this is only for you.”
He dipped his head to kiss her once more and felt the scrape of her nipples budding with desire in her gown. His hands slid from her waist to her buttocks, cupping them.
“Just for me?” she asked.
Richard moaned as he kissed her again and again, his lips moving to her neck and that delicate spot just below her ear he knew would make her arch into him. She did, and he glorified in her pleasure, in making her want him.
“God, Tabitha, just for you, always you.”
She untied his cravat and it fell to the floor. His waistcoat gaped open, swiftly following the cravat, and he felt completely at her mercy.
Always the Bridesmaid Page 7
