by Gill, Tamara
Abe had decided that he’d not let her invest all her money. He wasn’t that much of an ass, but he would have her spend enough that it would require adjustments to her household.
His friends, if they found out what he intended, would call him a bastard, and maybe he was. But the Vance family was cruel, unforgivingly bitter toward his mother, and he’d not let them get away with it. The old Viscountess Vance had been crafty with loyal accountants who had not seen fit to invest in anything, but Miss Perry was different. From his investigations into her, he’d found out she had hired her own solicitor, more modern and forward-thinking than her late aunt’s.
Solicitors who were easily persuaded into foolhardy investments suggested by a peer of the realm.
Abe came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Miss Perry walking arm in arm in the gardens with Lord Herbert. The pompous lord smiled down at her and even Abe had to admit that he looked genuine with his interest.
He wouldn’t let that bastard have her either. Lord Herbert always managed to get what he wanted, but not anymore. He would too have his day, and at the hands of Abe, he would ensure that.
For the life of him, he could not see what Miss Perry saw in the pretentious fool. Lord Perfect, who didn’t step out of line or do anything that went against his mother’s will. If Miss Perry wished to marry into that lofty family, she would have to impress the old battleax. Women from far wealthier families than hers and with loftier connections had failed.
He stopped, debating with himself whether he’d interrupt them or not. To anyone watching his actions, he’d look like a besotted fool who’d had his love interest swooped out from beneath his grasp.
There was a first for everything, but he’d be damned if he’d let Lord Perfect have Miss Perry. Not that he wanted her from himself. Blast it, no, he did not, but the fiend currently walking with her, glancing down at her as if the sun shone out of her preverbal ass would not do either.
“Something amiss, Ryley?” Duncannon said behind him, startling him from his inspection.
Duncannon was a good friend, loyal to a fault at times, but could read him like a book, and there was little point in disassembling. “I’m vexed, damn it, and Miss Perry is the reason behind my ire.” He started toward the stables again, Duncannon hard on his heels.
“Willow? What has she done to you, old boy?”
Abe halted, Duncannon running into him, sending him tumbling forward. Willow? Duncannon called her by her given name. He turned slowly, unsure what the emotions that were rioting about inside him meant by knowing they were on such intimate terms. “You call her by her given name, and your wife approves?”
Duncannon stared at him, eyes narrowing as he understood his anger. “I call all of my wife’s friends by their given names most of the time. Has the fact that Miss Perry has not given you leave to use her name annoyed you, my friend?” Duncannon’s knowing chuckle followed him, spiking his temper.
“Your mockery makes me question our friendship and what the hell I’m doing here.”
“Wait,” Duncannon said, clasping his arm. “This is more than Miss Perry not giving you leave to use her name. You’re jealous of Herbert.”
“The hell I am,” Abe sneered. “And anyway, what is he doing here? You know what I think of him.”
Duncannon frowned, sighing. “Lord Herbert is only here because Whitstone does not like to cause trouble. You know we’re loyal to you, have your back. There are many in attendance that we do not court close friendship with. Why this overreaction?” Duncannon held him fast, his grip tight on his arm. “You like Miss Perry. You like her more than you’re even allowing yourself to admit.”
“I absolutely do not,” he stated, his voice curt and final. A lie upon his lips that tasted sour and wrong. He did like her. Liked her more than he’d let anyone know, even himself. Why, though, was the question? Was it because she was forbidden to him due to her family being his enemy? Her fortune, that many a gentleman would accept into their coffers? Or the fact that she’d been honest with him, had stated that she sought a husband, a love match, and he was found wanting?
He’d told her himself that he wasn’t the marrying kind. The fact was not a lie. To be married to him would be on par with torture for a woman wanting a husband who remained faithful and adoring. Abe would never be either of those things. He ran a gambling den for crying out loud. A place where men came to escape their wives and duty to gamble and if they so chose, where they could bring their Cyprians and make use of his private suites upstairs.
“You do.” Duncannon’s words sounded astonished. Abe could understand that. He himself was feeling oddly out of sorts and not at all comfortable. “Well, well, well. This is a state that I had not thought would occur.”
Abe wrenched at his cravat, annoyed at the stifling knot about his neck. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Willow seems quite taken with Lord Herbert. If my summarizations are correct, I suppose you’ll have no issue with him courting her. He stated as much last evening when I was playing billiards. I do believe he intends to make her his wife.”
A cold shiver raced down Abe’s spine, and he started toward the stables, needing to be atop a horse and soon. Away from his insightful friend who was too loose with his opinions. A woman, Miss Perry…Willow…did not kiss him the way that she did and then turn about and marry someone else. The woman could not be so fickle, surely, unless she’d grown to like Lord Perfect. The idea repulsed him to his core.
“She can do whatever she likes,” he threw over his shoulder, needing distance before he struck out and punched something, namely his friend’s jaw for speaking the truth. Or at least speaking the truth to him and making him see the fact that he did not want to admit.
That Miss Willow Perry had wormed her way under his skin, and no matter how much he may try and remove her, she would not shift.
Willow strolled with Lord Herbert, his never-ending discourse regarding his home had been sweet and interesting at first, but after an hour of it, she had started to lose enthusiasm for the subject. She glanced about the gardens, spying Lord Ryley and Duncannon striding toward the stables. Duncannon seemed to have stopped Ryley, pulling him about to talk to him. She narrowed her eyes on the pair. Were they arguing?
Lord Ryley glanced in her direction, the disgust that formed on his features telling her all that she needed to know about the gentleman. It had been a mistake that she had kissed him, allowed him such liberties. Even if the memory of his mouth, hot and wet sliding over her breast settled an ache deep down in her core. He was a cad. She’d known it from the first, and it was her fault that she’d allowed herself to be swept up in his arms.
For all his help with her investments, there would not be a repeat of what had occurred between them. No more kisses. No more touches.
She glanced up at Lord Herbert as he spoke of his mother and how much he looked forward to their meeting. Willow smiled and tried to take an interest, but she’d heard the countess wasn’t a woman to cross. A lady who had, on many occasions, harangued those she thought required instruction on better manners or decorum.
“We will be returning to town in two days. I look forward to introducing you to her.”
If only she felt the same. Willow kept her smile in place, not letting it slip even though the thought of meeting Lady Herbert made her stomach churn. “I’ve heard of the countess. I look forward to meeting her too. I hope we can be friends.”
Lord Herbert patted her hand, and Willow ground her teeth at the condescending way in which he did so. “Never fear, my dear. She will like you very much. You are her friend’s niece, after all.”
Would like her money she supposed, more than she would like Willow for herself. She had no title. Her aunt had married well, but none of her family on either side of her parents’ line had. The countess would not like that no matter how much Lord Herbert may wish it so.
“I intend to head back to London the day after tomorrow. The Duke of Carlisle’s ball is the nex
t day, and I do not wish to miss it. It’s rumored to be the ball of the season.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “If you will, may I escort you back to London? I shall ride beside the carriage and ensure no harm befalls you and Miss Milton or Miss Clare.”
She inwardly sighed. Vexed that she’d allowed Lord Ryley’s opinion of Lord Herbert to taint him. He was sweet, caring, and was trying very hard to court her as a gentleman should. Not ravish her beside a running stream and then do everything in his power to avoid her since.
Willow needed to gain her sensibilities back. She would not lose her head to a gentleman who in no way wanted a wife and did not want her. “That is very kind of you, my lord. I would like that very much.”
He pulled them to a stop, taking her hand from his arm and kissing her gloved fingers. His eyes held hers as his lips touched her skin. Willow attempted to appear flattered, but she wasn’t sure if she succeeded. This was wrong. She knew it to her very center. Being with Lord Herbert did not fire any emotions within her at all. He was kind, could be a friend, but the word bland fluttered throughout her mind whenever they were together.
A marriage to him would be safe. Would give her the protection of his name and enable her to have children. Something she had longed for, for quite some time. She wished, oh how she wanted her blood to heat with every look from his lordship. For every touch or softly spoken word to make her shiver in awareness. But it did not.
Was it because she had not kissed the gentleman? Lord Herbert placed her hand onto his arm, and she realized he’d finished his little gesture and was escorting her back indoors. So lost in her own thoughts she’d not noticed. Hadn’t reacted at all. The first time she’d seen Lord Ryley, without even having his dark, wicked gaze on her, she’d known of his presence. Had felt it like a physical caress.
Now, after she’d kissed the gentleman, she was even more aware of him. She frowned, knowing there was only one thing that she could do to remedy the situation. She needed to kiss Lord Herbert and see if, by kissing him, her reaction to him changed. After all, before Lord Ryley she’d not kissed anyone. Mayhap it was due to her lack of awareness and knowledge of men that stopped her from knowing if she could be with someone as their wife. It was possible that after kissing Lord Herbert that her body would become aware of him.
Her skin prickled, and at the terrace doors, she glanced over her shoulder and spied Lord Ryley pushing his mount out across the fields of the estate, his coattails sailing behind him, his dark, wild hair easy to spy amongst the green landscape and, damn it all to hell, her heart skipped a beat.
Chapter 11
Abe lounged on a window seat in the long portrait gallery in the Duke of Whitstone’s new estate and stared out onto the manicured grounds below. His melancholy mood was unlike him, and he loathed that he’d been brought low by a woman. Or at least, one particular woman who had continued to stroll about the house with Lord Perfect as if he were the best thing that had ever happened to London in its thousand-year history.
That the bastard threw amused, cocky glances his way, practically rubbing his courtship of Miss Perry is his face wasn’t to be borne. If the man did not stop, Abe would have to take the situation into his own hands. Namely, he’d punch the bastard fair on his aristocratic uppity nose.
Thankfully the window nook that he sat within shielded him from anyone else who thought to take in the gallery. Not that the duke and duchess had time as yet to update the images to those of their family members. The estate had been owned by the Earl of Glenmere, a family that had fallen on hard times and had lost their fortune. If he knew his friends at all, they were likely looking after the family portraits to eventually hand them back when they were able to procure them.
A lilting feminine chuckle caught his attention, and he stilled when he recognized it as that of Miss Perry. The deeper tone, however, eluded him, and he pulled the curtain aside a little and glanced down the gallery to see Lord Perfect standing before a large painting of a gentleman with his wolfhound at his feet.
Miss Perry, her profile as ideal as he remembered it, slammed into him like a physical blow, and he clasped the seat he sat upon to stop himself from joining the couple and putting an end to the little tête-à-tête they were hosting.
His lip curled at the image they made. That they looked like a perfect London pair did little to ease his temper. But what he saw next made his blood run cold. Lord Perfect, after he made her chuckle at something he said, leaned down and kissed her.
Not just a quick, sweet kiss either, but one where he drew her up against him and took her mouth like a man who wanted a woman in his bed. Abe stood, fighting the urge to break through their secret interlude. To pummel the basted to a pulp and wrench Miss Perry away from the one man who Abe would never allow her to marry.
He turned toward the window, fisting his hands at his sides, fighting for control. He would not interrupt. If Lord Perfect was the man she wanted, what was it to him? He was going to ruin her anyway. Make her pay for her aunt’s wrongdoings. That she was possibly days away from being betrothed to Lord Perfect was indeed ideal. He could take them both down together, and much more easily as a couple. His contacts in London, his business dealings, could make it hard for Lord Perfect financially. The man, so like so many others, was not as perfect as they led everyone to believe, and he had vowels that Abe could purchase.
Thoughts and plans ran through his mind on how to ruin them both. Anger beat through his veins like an elixir of revenge. A gasp sounded behind him, and he jumped as a warm, well-rounded body slammed into his back.
He turned fast enough to clasp Miss Perry’s arms and steady her before she tumbled onto her ass. He should let her go, to fall on her backside. It was the least she deserved after kissing the bastard Lord Perfect.
“Lord Ryley.” She gulped, her cheeks a bright, splotchy pink as if she’d been caught doing something naughty, which she had.
“Miss Perry,” he said, as blandly as he could. He stepped back, putting space between them. He didn’t need another reminder of what her body felt like beneath his hands. He knew very well how delicious her curves were. How much he longed to have her in his arms once again so he could savor every ounce of her. “What are you running away from?” he asked, stepping past her and seeing the portrait gallery empty of the Lord Perfect.
“Nothing,” she said on a rush, the blush on her cheeks reddening further. Not that he thought it was possible for her to look any more embarrassed, but there you go, she could. Her eyes darted about like a frightened deer, and he raised his brow.
“I thought I saw you before. Just outside in the portrait gallery and quite busy with a certain lord. Are you sure you’re not running away?”
She bit her lip, and Abe stilled. Damn it. He wanted to kiss her. To kiss her so deep and long so she would have no other choice but to forget the pompous fool who dared to take such liberties with her.
“You were spying on me?”
He chuckled, seating himself back down. Abe kept watch of her, hoping she wouldn’t flee. As much as he loathed himself for it, he longed for her company. Enjoyed their sparring and their kisses—when she wasn’t handing them out to anyone else that was.
“Not spying, simply at the right place at a most opportune time.” He crossed his legs, clasping his knee with his hands. “I am curious, though. Do you always go about house parties determined on kissing every gentleman that you speak to? First me, and now Lord Perfect. Does his lordship know that you’ve shared your delights with me as well?”
She crossed her arms at her front, accentuating her breasts in her pretty, green-silk gown. Abe inwardly groaned. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea that she was hidden away in here with him. Not after days of not being near her, not having the delight of teasing the little minx.
“Sounds like spying to me. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“Me?” he said, pointing at himself for effect. “I ought to be ashamed of myself? I’m not the one kis
sing random gentlemen guests with little heed to anyone who could pass you by or come upon you. I heard you and while I should have made my presence known I figured I was here first and so did not. You see,” he said, glancing at the book at his side that he’d not opened the whole time he’d been sitting in the window alcove. “I was reading and then rudely interrupted with declarations of intent and disgusting sounds of a pompous fool kissing a woman that he is not worthy of.”
Miss Perry gasped, staring at him, and Abe stilled, realizing that he’d said too much. May have given too much away as to what seeing her with Lord Perfect did to him. Drove him to distraction where he wanted to harm the cad physically.
“If you must know, Lord Herbert is courting me. He’s going to introduce me to his mother when we return to town. He’s escorting me tomorrow, in fact.”
Abe stood, having not known that the bastard was escorting her or that she was going home. Both tidbits of information sending his wits spiraling. “You’re leaving? But I thought the house party was to continue up to Sunday. Are you so eager to rush back to town to meet his lordship’s mother? I know I would not be.”
“No? You do not like her, my lord? If I’m not to meet his lordship’s mother, then maybe you’d like me to meet yours. You do seem so very put out that his lordship is courting me. Are you by any chance, Lord Ryley, jealous?” she said, leaning toward him and leaving not a whisper of space between their mouths.
That hers twisted into a knowing smirk snapped the little amount of control that he’d been holding on to. He wrenched her into his arms. She gasped, and he found himself watching her, realizing with some delight that the wench was enjoying his manhandling of her. His inability not to react to her taunting him with ideals and dreams of marrying another pleased her.
Abe wasn’t sure if he liked that realization or not and didn’t bother trying to determine the outcome of that thought when he took her lips in a searing kiss, eliminating all thoughts entirely.
