“Yes, I need you.” Urgency chased chills down her spine. Isabella beckoned the maid closer. Of late, she’d been the only confidante Izzy had, as up for any adventures as she’d put forth, and her company was most welcome when moving through London. Once, she and the maid had absconded with a couple of the earl’s cigars. They’d gone up in the attics of the London townhouse and tried to smoke them—to see what all the fuss what about—but ended up being violently ill. Neither of them had spoken of the incident. Best of all, Molly never said a word of where they went or what they did while there, and she was always keen for anything. Perhaps they were both trapped in their various lives with no outlet for escape. “Do you swear what I tell you will remain private between us?”
“Don’t I always keep your secrets?” A grin broke out over the maid’s face. She smoothed her hands down the front of her white pinafore apron and shook out her black bombazine skirts. But her eyes widened. “I’m honored, my lady, that you wish to continue to confide in me.”
“Good. You’re the best of all companions.” Isabella grabbed one of Molly’s hands. Then she sighed. How to begin? “I’m being bedeviled by a man.”
“Should we call for the constable?” Nothing except concern filled the maid’s expression.
“Dear Molly.” She smiled and squeezed the girl’s fingers before releasing her. “It’s not in that way.” Unsure of how to go on, Isabella worried her hands and finally tucked them behind her back. “This man and I met in the rain two days ago at the gypsy fair.”
“Is he peeping on you, on this house? My Nan told me this story once of a man who did that. Got his rocks off, he did, by staring into women’s windows at night. Lousy sort of man, he was, until the butcher found out and went after him.” She grinned. “This was at the house I worked at before coming to you, my lady.”
“What?” Isabella stared. The idea was so foreign that she couldn’t wrap her head around the concept, and when she did, heat sank into her cheeks. Imagine the captain spying on her when she was in the altogether. She shot a glance to the window. Of course, how he’d manage such a feat when there were no nearby tress, she couldn’t fathom. Then she dismissed the idea from her mind. “No! Of course this man isn’t doing such a thing.”
“Men are sneaky, my lady,” Molly added. Her brown eyes were still wide.
“Not this one, unless it’s a verbal sort of cleverness, and then, he’s quite skilled in that.” She shook her head for good measure. “However, he was horrid, said things, impolite things to me. To be fair, I was nasty too, and my replies were even more distasteful.” The heat of embarrassment now warmed her cheeks. “Mother would be mortified, and Father disappointed.” Which was why her parents would never find out. “In any event, this man no doubt thinks I’m a harpy of the first order.”
If I don’t wish for a man, why does it bother me what he thinks?
“I assume you dressed him down right properly?”
“Of course.”
“Then I don’t understand why you seem at sixes and sevens, my lady.” The maid frowned. “He is in your past, and it’s doubtful you’ll see him again.”
Oh, if only that were true. Fire re-ignited in Isabella’s cheeks. “Unfortunately, I saw him again at the musicale last night.”
“Bad luck, that, my lady.” Molly gawked, no doubt feeling much like Isabella did. “Was it uncomfortable?”
She snickered. “It wasn’t the most wonderful evening I’ve passed.”
When she’d first become aware of his presence as he’d slipped into the seat next to her, she didn’t know how to react. There’d been shame, of course, but along with the inevitable annoyance there was a certain… anticipation with the new interaction. Obviously, he’d known not who she was, and when he’d insulted her family, she couldn’t let the trespass go.
Once more she’d acted the shrew. Even if the warmth from his breath lingered on her cheek, the shell of her ear, and the scent of him still haunted her like a phantom. She shivered and swore she could smell his cologne or shaving soap, a pleasant mix of oak, spiced rum and citrus.
Molly’s lips formed a perfect “o” shape. “There was gossip this morning, my lady, when the milk was delivered.” She peered more closely into Isabella’s face. “Was he the man you slapped?”
“How could you possibly know about that?”
The maid shrugged. “Young Jim delivers the milk. His sister works in the captain’s house as the downstairs maid. Young Jim told Cook, Cook told the housekeeper and I heard her telling one of the footmen.”
Dear God, it was insanity how news travelled so quickly through the network of servants. But the maid waited on an answer. “Yes.” If her cheeks flamed any more fiercely, she’d burn to death. “Again, he was horrid to me, and I to him. I asked him to leave this house immediately.”
“Was that the end of it, then?”
“Uh, not exactly…” She trailed off, not knowing how to go on.
“But?” Molly’s thin red eyebrows rose.
Isabella moistened her lips. She cleared her throat. “I ran into him at the book shop this morning.”
“Yet you’re certain he isn’t stalking you with malicious intent? That smacks to me of more than coincidence,” the maid asserted.
“Quite sure. The captain isn’t devious in that way.” Unable to bear the eventual knowing she’d find in Molly’s eyes, Isabella turned to the window and stared unseeing at the well-manicured back lawn.
“Was the captain just as terrible at this meeting as he was before?”
Of course it was a valid, logical question. “Only slightly and at first, but he,” she lowered her voice as her heart beat accelerated. “He stole a kiss.” She twisted about to face her maid.
“Oh, my lady!” Molly gawked once more. “He’s a cad, isn’t he?”
“I thought he was.” Especially since he’d only kissed her to stem her words. “But then, we talked.” Well, she did most of the talking and he responded like a prick, and that had only served to feed her ire. “After that, I…”
“Yes?” Anticipation hung on that one word.
Isabella couldn’t quite stop the budding grin curving her lips. “I stole a kiss of my own.”
“What?” Molly stared, her eyes wide, and Isabella stared right back. “Whyever would you do such a thing if you don’t like him?”
She shrugged. “I was curious and angry that he’d only kissed me to stop me from talking.” The words tumbled over themselves in her haste to confess and garner feedback. “After that, we talked. To be fair, I think he was interested in selecting a book, but I wanted to know why he’d kissed me to begin with and why he didn’t feel anything when he did.”
“Men are men, my lady. They don’t need a reason.”
“While that very well may be true, it rubbed me the wrong way, so I dared myself to kiss him.”
“What happened then?”
“I’m not sure anything happened. It was just a kiss.” Except, that was a lie. Even now, tingles chased up and down her spine as she thought of the press of her lips against his. Under Molly’s scrutiny, Isabella’s cheeks burned again. “There were no feelings exchanged, and that was encouraging.”
“Sometimes, my lady, I do not understand you.” Molly twisted her apron in her hands. “What did you do afterward?”
“Nothing. I think I stupidly thanked him and I left. No doubt he went his way while I went mine.” But she’d watched through the front window for a time. The captain hadn’t exited the shop immediately, and she’d marveled that he’d had enough wherewithal to continue perusing the books while she stood outside, her mind in the brambles. She sighed. Heat slipped through her blood to lodge between her thighs. It was incongruous that she desired such a man, wasn’t it? “What should I do now, Molly?”
Such confusion was silly. It wasn’t as if she was an untried schoolgirl. Of course she’d been kissed, for such things were appealing, thought-provoking and interesting, but she’d yet to discover a man w
ho could kiss her with authority or skill, a man who didn’t make her wish to cast up her accounts once the kiss had ended.
A man who spurred her onward to find out what else he was skilled in.
Molly pressed her lips together as she contemplated Isabella. Finally, she broke her silence. “I suppose if it was me, I’d take stock of how I felt about him. Nan always said that if the thought of a man doesn’t throb the quim and tug at the mind, he’d not worth offering a heart.” She shrugged. “Does the captain do any of that for you?”
Oh, dear lord. Isabella pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. How was it the lower classes could sometimes put situations in their place so succinctly? “He is irritating, of course, and rude, and…” She forced moisture into her suddenly dry throat. “Well, that is none of your business. However, when I argue with him, he makes me feel…” What was the correct word for this situation?
Molly smiled. Her eyes sparkled. “Alive, my lady?”
“Yes, quite.” She nodded, grateful it was that simple. “In that, he’s completely different from any of the other men I’ve known and encouraged.”
“Will you encourage the captain, then?”
“I don’t know.”
The maid nodded. “That must account for something.”
“Perhaps.” Yet she still remained conflicted. Apparently confessing hadn’t clear her mind as she’d thought it would.
Molly gasped as if an idea had just occurred to her. “Why don’t you open a flirtation with him, my lady?” The brogue made her voice sound amused. “There is no harm.”
A flirtation, with the captain? Isabella frowned. “To what end?”
“Marriage?” The maid shrugged. “All women want that, and he isn’t destitute, from all accounts.”
“I am not after marriage.” She snorted. “It is too much work and I don’t wish to give up my freedom. Remember, Molly, there are worse things than being unmarried and a spinster.” A shudder ripped up her spine. Too many friends and acquaintances had told too many stories about how men, once wed, stopped pretending, stopped hiding behind charming facades and would completely become who they were in truth—men who beat their women, squelched their movements, took away everything their wives had tried so hard to build.
The maid wasn’t deterred. “Then choose him to cause a sensation with.” A saucy grin lifted Molly’s lips. “We should men have all the fun when a romp is all that’s needed?”
Intriguing thought. Isabella cocked an eyebrow. “A scandal, you mean?”
“Why not?” She nodded. “If he is already as bad as you say, it would not be your reputation at stake if such a thing comes to light. Everyone would assume he led you astray.”
“He might act horrid at times; I couldn’t do such a heartless thing to him.” But she tapped her chin with a forefinger. She grinned. “It wouldn’t take much to cause a scandal in Buckinghamshire though.”
Molly nodded. “Why not have a little fun while you’re at it? A tupping in a shadowy corner of a hayloft somewhere has its good points.”
“If I didn’t know better, Molly, I’d think you’ve done this before.”
The maid remained silent, but her eyes sparkled.
How positively… awkward. Her maid had more of an adventurous life than she did. “An affair, then. The more torrid the better.”
“Exactly, my lady.”
Isabella’s cheeks heated once more. Was she willing to go that far? To actually flirt and tease and lead a man on until they both fell into bed, consumed with a wild passion that had nothing to do with the future or love? “Hmm.” She hummed as the possibilities swirled through her mind. “I shall think about it.”
“Don’t think too hard, my lady. Such things should happen in the spur of a moment, and if he suits you in that way…” She left the statement unfinished.
“That will be all, Molly.” She waved the maid toward the door. “And remember, tell no one what we discussed. I’d hate for my potential indiscretion to die before it even started.”
“I’ll be silent as the grave, my lady.” Molly smiled but she retreated, closing the door softly behind her.
Once alone, Isabella contemplated the view out her window again. A hedge maze waited on the sprawling property. From her vantage point, she could see almost to the heart of it. Beyond that and in the far distance, the gray rooftops of Captain St. John’s home reposed in the gloom of the overcast afternoon.
What Molly said made certain sense. She did want an affair to fill the summer. Otherwise, the months stuck in Buckinghamshire would be so dull, but beyond that, indulging in such a scandalous endeavor would allow her to explore a side of life that was all but forbidden to her, locked and barred without a husband to lead her into the physical aspects of relations between men and women.
But would the captain fill the need?
She traced the rooftops with her fingertip on the glass. If that kiss she’d taken from him was an indication, he might just be what she wanted. But she needed to plan. A woman interested in scandal had to have a plan, didn’t she? Seduction didn’t merely happen.
How the devil did such a thing occur?
I need to know more about him before taking him to bed.
Only time would tell if they would suit in such a way, but she looked forward to the challenge.
Chapter Seven
June 3, 1818
Rain kept Peregrine home yesterday, where thoughts of a certain raven-haired lady with bewitching eyes haunted him. That and the fact his old wound pained him enough, even into this day, that Jensen had rubbed down the muscles.
Both of those matters didn’t promote good humor.
“Do stop moving about. I cannot do this effectively,” the valet commanded with some annoyance.
Face down on his bed, Peregrine bit back the wealth of curses he wanted to hurl at the man while Jensen applied some sort of liniment into his tight muscles and twisted flesh. “And I cannot believe you are still using that infernal stuff. It smells like pitch and peppermint.” The innocuous brown bottle had first made an appearance a few years ago onboard ship, and after his injury, Jensen was seemingly never without it.
“It might be an old recipe but it works, so stop belly aching, Captain.” The man worked the tight muscles in Perry’s thigh and leg. With every pass of Jensen’s fingers, the ache intensified and faded by turns. “You should have told me earlier how bad the pain had grown.”
“I have been distracted of late. It was easy to ignore. Until it wasn’t.” He gritted his teeth around the pain. Damn, one would think as time went on, the body would learn to accept being broken.
“Next time, tell me.”
“I’ll try.” He grimaced. “Really, Jensen, you’re becoming a mother hen.”
The valet snorted. “Hardly.” He worked on the stiff, knotted muscles until some of the tension eased. “Your distraction is that woman?”
“Yes. Lady Isabella.” Peregrine lifted his head, twisting about until he could look at his friend. “I kissed her two days ago.”
Jensen’s eyebrows soared to his hairline. “Out of spite I would imagine.”
How to explain in words that wouldn’t make him look like a heel? There wasn’t a way. “At first, yes, I kissed her out of spite, or rather to shut her up. The woman babbles, and I was in the book shop to search for a volume of poetry. You know how I dislike obstacles to a mission.”
“I do.” The valet continued with his task and when he hit a particularly sensitive knot, Peregrine nearly vaulted off the bed. “Sorry, Captain. After the kiss, I presume another followed?”
Perry grinned. “After some discussion, which brought out her ire, the lady kissed me, for she was annoyed I hadn’t done it out of lust or attraction.”
“No slap this time?”
“There was not.”
“Women are enigmas.” That was all Jensen said on the subject as he continued with his ministrations.
“Yes.” Peregrine turned his head, resting his chee
k against a pillow as he contemplated the window.
That spark of curiosity that had mixed with the air of vulnerability when she’d spoken of kisses had tugged something from him, and when she’d pounced, he’d been hard-pressed not to give into what she’d wanted. How could he not? She was curved and rounded in all the right places and her lips had been petal soft against his. The fact that she’d known she affected him, the sparkle in her indigo eyes and her awkward goodbye had all left him reeling. What was he to do about her?
Logic said to leave her alone. She’d be nothing but trouble. However, there was something about her, something almost forbidden, and he couldn’t determine if he was attracted to her as a woman or to the animosity she’d previously shown him. That snap, that energy between them was most addicting.
The sound of Jensen discreetly clearing his throat brought Peregrine out of his thoughts. “So, what now, Captain?” Finished with his task, the valet stepped away from the bed and recorked the bottle of liniment.
“Regarding the injury or the lady?” he couldn’t help quipping as he sat up on the bed, swinging his legs over the edge.
“The lady, of course, for the injury is permanent.”
“I’m not certain.” Peregrine slid from the bed. He then yanked on a pair of breeches and then tucked the tails of his fine lawn shirt into the waistband.
Jensen wiped his hands on a rag. “Do you want my advice?”
He stifled a groan. “Even if I don’t, you’ll give it anyway.”
“Aye.” The valet rolled his eyes, but he grinned. He crossed the room to a wooden cupboard where he stowed his bottle and rag. “There has not been a woman who has interested you in years. Perhaps you should see if you and Lady Isabella suit.”
Any levity Peregrine might have felt for the situation died and left him cold with a hole where his heart should have been. “You know why I cannot.” A trace of bitterness hung on the words. His last relationship had ended in heartbreak—his, and had shown him how utterly cruel women could be.
“Just because one woman destroyed your heart and your trust doesn’t mean they all will.” Jensen turned with a rather cheeky grin. “Lady Isabella might be a harridan, but I doubt she’s heartless.”
Lady Isabella's Splendid Folly: a Fortune's of Fate story (Fortunes of Fate Book 7) Page 7
