by Diana Quincy
“That will suit us both admirably.”
He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Come now, Delilah, don’t be a spoilsport just because I have finally outmaneuvered you. After all these years, in the end, without Father to protect you, I emerge the winner.”
Leela looked daggers at him. “I shall leave you to celebrate your victory.” She turned away, unable to suppress her smile for much longer. She slammed the door behind her to make her angry exit more convincing. But by the time she reached the street, she was laughing.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The moment Hunt found a plausible reason to call upon Leela in broad daylight, he went directly to Peckham House.
He found her seated at her escritoire engrossed in some papers. He took a moment to admire the view. She wore a violet dress that complemented her tawny skin. Her sumptuous hair, which she’d gathered loosely in a ribbon, streamed down her back. Her beautiful eyes lit up when she turned in her seat and realized who her visitor was. She rose. “What are you doing here?”
He pulled her to him, hungry for her soft warmth. “Is that any way to greet your lover?”
She enthusiastically returned his tender, unhurried kiss, their tongues meeting and mating, as if they were made for this. For each other.
“Much better. Now I am convinced that you are pleased to see me.”
“I am always happy to see you. Perhaps too much so.”
“There is no such thing.”
“I don’t know about that.” Her eyes clouded. “I think about you entirely too much.”
“The obsession is mutual.” He produced a pair of kid leather gloves from his pocket.
“What are those?”
“Victoria left them behind at Weston House when she visited. I was ecstatic to find them in the library among the books because it gave me an excuse to call on you now, rather than waiting for you to come to me under the cover of darkness.”
She shook her head. “We’re quite the pair, you and I.” She pulled away. “Would you like a sherry?”
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
She crossed the room to fix their drinks. Glass clinked as she poured the sherry. Hunt’s gaze latched on to the papers on her desk. He recognized Devon’s seal.
“You have dealings with Devon?”
“Yes. Actually, I am about to conclude some business with him.”
He peered down at the papers, which included a bill of sale. “What sort of business?”
“I sold Parkwood back to him. He intends to make it part of the entail so that no future hussy countesses can get their hands on it.”
“You gave him the dower house?” He turned to stare at her. “Just like that?”
“I sold it to him for an excellent price.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Something wasn’t right. He studied her. The glitter in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks. “You were determined to hold on to that house.”
“Well, he did force my hand.” She handed him his sherry.
“How did he do that?”
“By threatening to reveal our affair to the world.”
His mouth fell open. “Devon knows?”
“Yes, it was rather bad luck. He apparently has a particular friend who lives near you.”
“Lady Bellmore.”
“Who is she?”
“A widow. She’s Devon’s paramour.”
“Really?” She took her sherry to her stuffed armchair and settled in. “Well, it is just our luck that Edgar’s mistress lives across the street from you. He saw me leaving Weston House late at night.”
“Damnation.” Parkwood was an important asset for Leela, and Hunt’s failure to be sufficiently discreet had resulted in her loss of it. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She gestured for him to take the stuffed chair adjacent to hers. She seemed remarkably upbeat for someone who’d just lost a valued property. “It has all worked out beautifully.”
“How can you say that?” He sat heavily in the chair. “This is all my fault.”
“Stop trying to take credit for my victory.”
“How is this a win for you?”
Triumph flashed in her face. “Because I now have the funds to purchase the paper mill.”
“But at what cost? You’ve been forced to surrender Parkwood.”
“That house represented security. Tori was all that bonded me to Lambert Hall, and now that Edgar has completely forsaken her, it is well past time that I sever all bonds to the Hall and its occupants.”
“You truly don’t regret the loss of the house?”
“I admit, I was tempted to send Tori and her Mr. Foster to live there and collect the rents from the farms Douglas left me. Just to spite Devon.”
“Do not tell me you’ve sold the farms as well?” As far as Hunt knew, the farms were her only reliable source of income. Unless her brother, wherever in Hades he was, provided an allowance for her.
“Of course I didn’t relinquish the farms. Naturally, Edgar wanted them, but I declined. He gets Parkwood and only Parkwood. Nothing else.” She paused. “Besides, Douglas stipulated in his will that if I wanted to sell Parkwood, that Edgar must be allowed to buy it at a fair price.”
“And now you get Devon’s silence, I take it.”
“That was the whole point.”
“Can he be trusted?”
“In general? No. However, the last thing Edgar wants is another scandal attached to the Devon title. He’s intent on wedding as quickly as possible in order to replace me as Countess of Devon.”
“You shall still be the dowager countess.”
“True. But I do not intend to go about in society. I disdain the ton as much as it disdains me. I am probably more eager to leave good society behind than Edgar is to be rid of me.”
“What happens now?”
“I have already sent word to my solicitor, Mr. Sherman in Coventry, to handle the purchase of the factory. Next, I suppose I must learn how to run a paper mill.”
“Wrong.” He surged to his feet and dropped to his knees before her. “Next, I’m going to have my way with you.”
“Now? Here?”
He began lifting the hem of her gown. “Why do you think I invented an excuse to come and see you?”
“That was very clever of you.” She watched him bare her stocking-clad knees.
“Indeed.” His hand dipped under her skirts. “And now I intend to claim my reward.”
“This is very kind of you.” Tori accepted the food basket from Leela. “But you really must stop giving us things. We are hardly paupers.”
Leela drew off her cloak. “I reserve the right to bring gifts to my stepdaughter whenever I feel compelled to do so.” Earlier in the week, she’d sent over coal, candles and an assortment of dried goods, including tea and pyramid sugar.
“An occasional gift, perhaps,” Tori allowed, “but you’ve given us far too much. We shall soon run out of space to store it.”
“Don’t exaggerate.” Leela surveyed the room. “I haven’t sent that much.”
Tori’s new home shared a back wall with the home behind it. The modest abode consisted of three small rooms: two unseen chambers upstairs and this snug space that served as a kitchen, eating space and sitting room all in one. A coal stove kept the space warm. The ceilings were low, and the narrow windows on only one wall did not allow much light in. But Tori kept the space tidy and it somehow felt homey despite the Spartan conditions.
“You both are always welcome to come and stay with me at Peckham House,” Leela said, not for the first time.
Tori smiled. She wore another of her rough plain gowns that stopped at the ankles, but her eyes were clear and sparkling, and a becoming flush painted her cheeks. “You are that horrified by my reduced circumstances?”
“Not at all. I just want you to be comfortable.”
Tori went to the stove to prepare the tea. “I am happy. That is far more important.”
Leela settled into one of two faded side
chairs with fully upholstered backs, the only seating in the room. The fabric was so timeworn that Leela couldn’t discern its original color. She made a mental note to see to the delivery of a sofa so that Tori would have a more comfortable place to sit.
Leela watched Tori pour the tea. “Everything is well?”
Tori’s eyes glistened. “Supremely so. Mr. Foster is kind, attentive and very loving.” She blushed as she said the last words, which Leela took as a sign that Tori found the marriage bed to be most satisfactory.
She sipped her tea. “And where is your Mr. Foster now?”
“Searching for work.” Tori sat in the only other chair in the room. “There are two postings on Bond Street that he is looking into. We have high hopes that he will secure employment soon.”
“Are people still turning him away?”
“I am afraid so.” Concern lit her eyes. “Have you spoken to Huntington? Is he well?”
“Yes.” Leela’s cheeks heated at last night’s memory of playing golf on the putting green in Hunt’s garden. Each time she missed the hole, she’d been required to discard a piece of clothing. Needless to say, Hunt had done everything in his power to keep her warm.
“And?” Tori prompted, jarring Leela away from her reminiscences.
“I have spoken to the duke. He wanted me to assure you that he bears you no ill will and that he accepts your apology unreservedly.”
“He is all that is kind.” Tori studied her. “Have you been spending time with the duke?”
Leela shifted in her seat. “I do see him on occasion.” She wanted to tell Tori about her liaison with Hunt, but it felt like it was too soon. “I suppose you could say that we have become friends.”
“Have you? I am so pleased.” Tori clasped her hands together before her chest. “Hunt deserves a good friend like you. It makes me feel less guilty to know he is not entirely alone.”
“He is doing well. That I can assure you.”
“Perhaps he will assist Mr. Foster in securing a position.”
“No.” Leela spoke firmly. “That he will not do. He is very angry with Mr. Foster for his defection.”
“Oh.” Tori slumped a little. “I see.”
“But I shall help you in any way I can. I hate to see you experience any hardship.”
Tori’s face shone. “It is no hardship at all to be wed to Mr. Foster. You know I have never cared for silk gowns and glittering balls. Mr. Foster and I do the things I truly enjoy together. We read and discuss books. We go for walks. We understand each other.”
The door opened and Mr. Foster came in. “My darling, I am home.” He wore a plain brown suit and was neat in appearance. He startled once he spotted Leela. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, Lady Devon. I did not realize we had a guest.”
“Welcome home, dearest.” Tori went to her husband and slipped her arm through his. Their gazes met and heat arced between them. The tenderness and physical attraction between Tori and her husband was as apparent as writing on a wall.
Leela felt a spasm in her chest. To her surprise, she envied her stepdaughter. Tori had lost life’s material pleasures, but she’d gained a husband who loved her, a companion to share her life with.
“Come and say hello.” Tori drew her husband closer.
“Mr. Foster,” Leela said. “I hope you are well.”
“I am. I must thank you for your generous gifts. I hope you are enjoying your visit with . . . my wife.” He stood behind Tori’s chair, his hand on her shoulder. There was nowhere else in the room for him to sit.
“I am greatly enjoying your wife’s company. However, it is you that I have come to see.”
“Me?” he asked.
“Him?” Tori said at the same time.
“Yes,” Leela affirmed. “I am in the process of acquiring a paper mill that will require an intelligent young man to oversee its operation. I hope you will accept the position. It will require a move to Oxfordshire.”
“But I know nothing of running a mill,” he protested, although a hopeful expression marked his features. “I would not want to reward your generous offer with incompetence on my part.”
“His Grace assures me that you are an intelligent young man. The current manager, Mr. Avery, is staying on. He is a very able man and will train you to work alongside him.”
“Is the mill doing well at the moment?” he asked.
Leela nodded. “My solicitor assures me that the paper mill is very profitable under Mr. Avery’s direction.”
Tori and Mr. Foster stared at each other. Tentative hope bubbled between them. Mr. Foster looked back at Leela and swallowed. “It is a very generous offer.”
Tori leaped out of her chair and bounded over to engulf Leela in a hard hug. “You are such a dear. He will not disappoint you.”
“Victoria, wait,” Mr. Foster said.
Tori regarded her husband expectantly. “Yes?”
“As I was saying, your offer is most generous, Lady Devon, but I cannot accept.”
“You can’t?” Tori’s eyes rounded. “Why not?”
“I am not qualified to run a mill, and I should not like to impose on Lady Devon’s generosity and goodwill.”
“I am not worried about your abilities,” Leela assured him. “His Grace says you are a very competent young man.”
“That is good of His Grace to say, but I cannot accept.”
“Won’t you at least take some time to think about it before rejecting my offer outright?” Leela asked.
“My answer will not change.”
Leela exhaled. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
His features softened. “I do appreciate your concern for your stepdaughter’s welfare,” he said politely. “I give you my word that I shall look after Mrs. Foster. But I cannot accept charity. My wife and I must find our own way.”
“It is not charity, my love,” Tori said gently. “She is offering you a position.”
“Lady Devon already has an able manager in her employ. She does not need me. I learned a great deal while working for His Grace. I am confident my experience will serve me well enough to secure a situation on my own merits.”
Leela admired the young man’s determination to succeed without assistance from his new wife’s affluent family. “I am disappointed,” she said with a warm smile, “but I also understand your decision.”
“Thank you, Lady Devon.” Mr. Foster paused. “As to His Grace, I sincerely regret any inconvenience I have caused him, but I cannot regret marrying my wife.”
“Perhaps Huntington will eventually come to see that,” Leela said, “but it will take time.”
Tori frowned, as if something had just occurred to her. “But there’s still something that I do not understand.”
“What is it?” Leela asked.
“Why did you buy a paper mill, of all things?”
Leela swallowed the last of her tea. “I suppose it is time you both learned who wrote Travels in Arabia.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Was that good?” Leela asked while kneeling naked before Hunt on the floor of her bedchamber.
“It was marvelous.” Hunt stared down at the goddess on her knees, at her luscious breasts, the bare expanse of smooth, warm-toned skin. “If you did it any better, my head might explode.”
His legs still trembled from the force of his release. He’d come hard and fast, the vision of Leela’s lips wrapped around his prick proving as erotic as the sensation of being inside her hot, eager mouth. He’d never imagined a well-bred lady could enjoy bed sport as much as Leela did. She’d insisted on learning how to use her mouth to please him in the same way he pleasured her. Hunt was not gentleman enough to refuse her request.
“We can try again if you’d like,” she offered. “I think I am getting the hang of it.”
“Oh, I would like.” He took her hands and helped her up. “But I might just die of pleasure if you take me into your mouth again this soon. A man needs some recovery time.”
Together, the
y collapsed onto the crumpled bed linens with their bare limbs intertwined. These past few weeks, he’d taken to visiting Leela at Peckham House almost nightly, arriving after the servants retired for the evening. He’d slip in an unlocked side door at midnight and depart at five in the morning before the servants stirred. Leela consumed his thoughts, especially when they were apart. He spent his days impatiently waiting for evening to fall so he could visit her.
They lay on Leela’s comfortable feather bed, Hunt on his back with Leela cuddled up to his side. “How is the sale of the mill proceeding?” he inquired.
“Very well. It should all be settled in the next month or so. Mr. Avery, the mill manager, has already viewed a prepared copy of volume three and is ready to begin printing as soon as I direct him to do so.”
“And you are intent on retaining Foster to comanage the property.”
“I was, but he turned down my offer.”
“He did? Why? I thought he was desperate for a situation.”
“Mr. Foster is determined not to accept what he perceives as charity from his wife’s family. He believes he can succeed on his own.”
“Foolish young man. He should have taken your offer. He won’t find another that is half as generous. Not after the way he betrayed me.”
“He told me how much he sincerely regrets any inconvenience he had caused you.”
Hunt grunted. “Inconvenience. That’s one way to refer to making me a laughingstock of the Season.”
“I know you cannot forgive what he did, but I do believe Mr. Foster fell deeply in love with Tori and could not help himself. Surely you can understand that.”
“Hmm.” He ran a hand down her back and over her hips. “I can certainly understand what it is like to come under the spell of an enchanting woman. But to throw everything away? To risk penury? To readily embrace certain ruin is another matter entirely.”
She playfully bit his chest. “No one will ever mistake you for a romantic, Mr. The-Rules-Must-Always-Come-First.”
“Ouch.” He slapped her rump. “Be careful with your rough play. You might awaken the beast in me.”
“I should be so lucky.” She shifted up to press her lips against his. Their tongues entwined in a long, leisurely kiss. Interest stirred between Hunt’s legs. She noticed. “Mmm. It feels like the beast is definitely awakening.”
