Desire by Design

by Heather Boyd

  He wasn’t excessively handsome, but proud of his looks and appeal. He wasn’t even really that scandalous or a libertine when compared with some other rogues she’d met in society so far. He seemed to have a healthy respect for women, and that only increased Sylvia’s fascination with him.

  They had met at Lord and Lady Carmichael’s wedding last year, though she doubted he even noticed her then. It had been many months since she’d found the marquess invading her dreams. In those, he took what he wanted and left her well pleasured and weak. It was almost disappointing to wake up some mornings to the truth and her empty bed.

  But wake she must, because she had a very busy day ahead. First on her agenda after dressing was to take a brisk walk to Berkley Square and back for the exercise, and to purchase sweetmeats from a shop there, too.

  Sylvia took a maid along with her so she was not seen walking alone and set off at a brisk pace.

  Berkley Square was an enclosed garden, one of many in the better parts of London. It was a far cry from the rambling country walks she’d enjoyed in her youth in Marlow, Berkshire. But long walk or not, Sylvia felt all the better for the short exercise. The extra inch of flesh around her hips warned Sylvia to disregard any advice that suggested she ought to be still at her age.

  They dodged carriages and crossed into the park and began their circuit. After one turn about the square, Sylvia noticed a lady sitting by herself on a park bench. The woman was unfamiliar to her, and she looked away as she skirted the perimeter of the quiet park a second time. The day was fair and other pedestrians few. But there was something in the way that lady sat so still that kept Sylvia’s attention returning to her.

  The woman must have been older than fifty, with white-blonde hair styled in ringlets at the back of her head. Her clothing was first-rate fashion and she wore it with the ease of someone accustomed to only the best. Sylvia looked for a companion of the woman, or perhaps a footman or groom lingering nearby. But the woman was utterly alone, and that was unusual in this neighborhood at this time of day.

  Sylvia’s walking path around Berkeley Square took her near the woman again, and as she drew closer, the lady glanced her way. Pale silver eyes stared at her and then lowered to her clasped hands. Those eyes had been weeping recently, or were trying not to now.

  Rather than boldly approach the woman and ask what was wrong and if she could be of service, Sylvia paused nearby, pretending she had a stone in her shoe.

  Her maid helped hold her up, and Sylvia smiled apologetically as she hopped up and down. “There is nothing worse than a stone in ones shoe, is there?”

  The woman smiled tightly. “No, I suppose not.”

  She winced, tried to walk on, and then shrugged. “Do you mind if I share your bench a moment?”

  The woman inclined her head. “Not at all.

  Sylvia hobbled to the bench and sat down, fiddling with her shoe. She pretended to find her rogue stone and put her footwear back on slowly. “What a lovely day it is turning out to be,” she gushed.

  The older woman huffed. “For some, perhaps.”

  “Not for you?”

  “Obviously.” The woman sighed. “That’s why you sat down, isn’t it? You saw an old woman alone and upset and came over to question her.”

  “I wanted to ask if I could be of any service,” Sylvia admitted quietly.

  “Not unless you can work miracles,” the woman said, and then pressed her lips tightly together. She looked about to cry again, too.

  “Not miracles, I’m afraid, but I’ll do my best,” she promised, worried for the old woman. “What do you need?”

  “Time. I need more time in this world.”

  “We all do.”

  The woman turned to her suddenly. “What do you know of the creeping of time? You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

  Sylvia leaned toward the woman. “I am a woman who never married and probably never will. Believe me, I’ve plenty of time to consider my mortality.”

  The older woman huffed. “What are you? Twenty?”

  “Six and twenty. Society considers me ancient.”

  The woman peered at Sylvia. “My word, you’re hiding your age better than most. Better than I did. By your age, I had all my children and was weary to the bone.”

  Sylvia would have liked children of her own. She would have enjoyed the making of them, too. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Why did you not marry? You’ve a pretty enough face to capture a man’s fancy.”

  Sylvia shrugged. “I wanted to wed but never quite got around to it, I suppose.”

  The old woman’s gaze grew hard. “A lack of acceptable suitors?”

  “That and lack of a dowry,” Sylvia confessed, being completely honest about her past for once. “When I did have funds from a small inheritance, my choices were between a much older gentleman, and a man nearer my age with nine children.”

  “So you chose neither. Very shortsighted of you.”

  Sylvia smiled at the rebuke. “It’s not so bad, not being married. I live with my cousins very happily. I come and go as I please and have time to spoil other people’s children.”

  “And strike up conversations with sad old ladies in Berkley Square, too.” The woman laughed softly. “Having your own children is better but I warn you never to spoil them. They will all forget the sacrifices you made for them when they were young and ignore you when you are old and gray.”

  Oh, how that must hurt every mother. Impulsively, Sylvia caught the other woman’s hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry they don’t appreciate you,” she told her. “I would give anything in the world that my mother was still alive to listen to. She died when I was very young. I never had another.”

  The other lady blinked several times and then patted her hand. “Perhaps my ungrateful children will miss me when I am gone.”

  Sylvia was starting to feel a little maudlin now herself. She did not know this woman’s name but she doubted she’d ever forget their conversation today. Part of her had always wondered if she’d made a mistake turning down her two suitors—when she’d had them—for a life of liberty and adventure with her cousins. Their time together hadn’t always been smooth sailing. There were silly little aggravations at times. Sylvia wasn’t so sure either path would have been better for her.

  “Well, I should be getting back. Heaven knows what those daughters of mine have been up to while I was gone.” The lady inclined her head to Sylvia. “Thank you for the conversation, young lady. I hope some fellow sees beyond your age and lack of dowry.”

  “If not, I’m sure I will be fine on my own,” she promised the woman.

  The lady hurried away, and Sylvia took note of the house she entered. It was one of those places frequently let to different families during the season.

  Sylvia stood and, with one last glance toward the distant townhouse, urged her maid to join her in a brisk walk around the square before they returned home.

  Chapter 3

  The card room at Lady Norrington’s soiree was full to the brim when Alexander strolled in around midnight. He was late, as usual. He preferred to make a discreet entrance instead of an early one, especially here, where his welcome could be decidedly cold. He probably only had Lady Norrington to thank for this unexpected invitation.

  A servant was quick to deliver him a glass of wine while he studied the ballroom and guests, then quickly grew bored. He turned his attention to the sidelines, noticing where old friends stood together, and where new acquaintance stood looking dazzled by the novelty of the gathering.

  He was surprised to see Miss Hillcrest in the former group. She really had ingratiated herself with the ton, given how much a part of the conversation she seemed to be with some of the high sticklers. They must approve of her business, too, which made no sense to him. A man should not need the guidance of three unwed women on how best to propose marriage to anyone.

  He wouldn’t need that sort of help when the time came—far from now. He
was the Marquess of Wharton. That alone recommended him to just about anyone—and he was rich, too, in his own right. That probably mattered more to any family than his pretty face.

  He strolled the perimeter of the room, and then left to slip into the card room, watching fortunes won, and some lost. The poor losers slunk away fairly quickly and returned to the ballroom, while the winners boasted their skill to those watching and kept playing.

  He came upon Lord Norrington at a table and paused to watch the game.

  Norrington was particular and only played with certain lords, and tonight he was losing to those same lords yet again. The earl should give up throwing his money away and make economies.

  Alexander drank sparingly, his heart sinking as another game came to a conclusion with Norrington losing, by his count, hundreds of pounds. Probably not his last loss of the evening, either.

  The man was too stubborn to help himself, and his wife would undoubtedly suffer for it later. He looked about, hoping to find Lady Norrington in the card room. She alone might have a chance to distract her husband from throwing their future away.

  He found her engaged in conversation with Miss Hillcrest. He wasn’t aware of their connection, or when it had started, but she was on the guest list so, of course, it stood to reason that they were friends of sorts.

  Perhaps they had played cards together at another party.

  Perhaps Sylvia Hillcrest was helping to ruin the Norringtons.

  No. Not deliberately, at any rate. She had said she applied her skills carefully, hiding her real talents to avoid giving offense.

  And then Alexander thought of how he might make use of Miss Hillcrest’s talent at cards to help a one-time friend get out of a sticky situation.

  Miss Hillcrest had said she could win and lose a game at will. The only person Alexander particularly wanted to be the recipient of money tonight was a Norrington, lord or lady. He didn’t care which.

  But how to arrange it? He couldn’t just walk over there and offer to fund Miss Hillcrest in a game himself. Any sensible person would be offended and turn him down. But there really was no time like the present. Tonight, they were all under Norrington’s roof. It was worth the risk in his opinion. Alexander would need to be extremely discreet when he explained his scheme to help the Norringtons; meet Miss Hillcrest alone somewhere, and extract a promise from her to keep her mouth shut about it later.

  He also didn’t want Miss Hillcrest to misunderstand him when he tried to arrange their meeting. She might fear he meant to seduce her. He was hardly interested in that, of course. She was far too buttoned up and proper for him to consider taking to bed.

  But then their eyes met across the room for the first time that night—and he remembered several things about her. She was attractive in her own way, and she had smiled at him very boldly the last time they’d met. Winked at him, too, but only when their hosts had been looking the other way.

  He winked at her now.

  Miss Hillcrest’s brow slowly creased in confusion then she nodded to him, before turning back to her conversation with Lady Norrington. That conversation needed to end, but he couldn’t be the one to interrupt. He didn’t want Lady Norrington to pay attention to him talking with a spinster when he was known to avoid them like the plague.

  He moved away from Norrington’s table and watched another game for a few minutes, keeping track of Miss Hillcrest.

  When her conversation ended, she made her way out of the card room and into the entrance hall. He followed her slowly, noticing she did not rush to turn into the ballroom, as he suspected she might. She ambled, fan open and cooling her face as she walked directly for the open terrace doors.

  Anyone who saw her might assume she was venturing out for a breath of fresher air. Spinsters of her age were not usually pursued by scoundrels or watched over very closely, either. Their age, and the absence of a sizable dowry, made older women such as Miss Hillcrest much less interesting. They certainly had never interested him.

  Until tonight.

  He waited a few minutes and then stepped outside, too, via another set of doors farther along the room. He strolled the terrace, keeping to the shadows until he came upon Miss Hillcrest looking up at the stars.

  She stood in plain sight of the ballroom guests, though. Her gaze slowly lowered and then she turned slightly in his direction, revealing she was aware of him. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose.” Alexander answered but he clung to the shadows still. He couldn’t stand at her side without causing tongues to wag inside.

  “What do you want?”

  “Who said I wanted anything?”

  “You looked at me twice tonight. Of course you must want something. Have you come to get your money back without Carmichael finding out?”

  “Of course I did not,” he exclaimed, highly offended. “Actually, I had something else on my mind.”

  Her breath hitched, and Alexander nearly groaned. Why did all women think he intended to seduce them when he only wanted a moment of their time? “Nothing scandalous,” he hastened to assure her. “Well, perhaps it is, but nothing too arduous for you. I have a question.”

  She shuffled a little farther along the terrace towards him, though not all the way into the shadows. “Then ask it.”

  He checked to see no one was on their way out to the terrace before he spoke. “Can you specifically lose a hand of cards to just one person at the table and not have them realize it was done deliberately?”

  She was silent a minute, and then she lifted one delicate shoulder in a shrug. “That is harder, but I have done it with my cousins a few times. Why?”

  “Can you keep a secret, too?”

  She glanced up at the sky. “Yes, I normally would.”

  Alexander debated the wisdom of sharing his plans with this woman. He was taking a risk confiding in her, but it might be the only way to make headway with his scheme to prop up the Norringtons’ failing fortunes. “There is a lady inside who’s in a bad way, financially. She hides it well but I wish to ensure her happiness continues. Discreetly, of course.”

  “If she is such a good friend, why not just slip her the money yourself the next time you meet her alone?”

  “It’s not that way between us.” He pulled a face. Everyone assumed his interest in Lady Norrington was romantic. “Her husband would never accept charity, and I wish not to cause discord between husband and wife. But if she won at cards…”

  “It would not be charity,” Miss Hillcrest finished for him. “Very clever. They would believe it to be luck and never suspect the money came from you.”

  Alexander risked a peek inside the ballroom. So far they were alone on the terrace but he doubted that could continue all night. “So?”

  She sighed. “I’ve not the funds to gamble tonight.”

  “I do, of course.”

  Her smile showed amusement. “Of course you do.”

  He put his hand into his pocket and withdrew a handful of notes. “Why don’t you come over here, into the shadows to get it?”

  She remained where she was and looked up at the stars again, lifted her arms and then danced into the shadows. Anyone who saw her would have laughed, thinking her an odd old duck, but they also wouldn’t question why she had disappeared from sight. Not immediately.

  She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then smiled up at him, her eyes alight with interest. “All right. Who is your mysterious lady friend?”

  He leaned close to whisper in her ear and caught the scent of her perfume. Roses. The soft scent unexpectedly stirred him. “Our hostess,” he whispered.

  “No!”

  He grabbed her upper arm quickly. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “I don’t want to be found alone with you.”

  Miss Hillcrest jerked back a step. “That was rude.”

  Worried that their voices may have carried, he gripped her by the waist, lifted her up, and set her farther from the doorway. He stared do
wn at her, hemming her in. “I don’t want anyone getting wind of this,” he warned in a whisper.

  “I’ll keep your secret,” she promised. “I like her very much.”

  He pressed the money against her belly. Their fingers brushed as it changed hands, and Miss Hillcrest squinted as she tried to count the money in the dark.

  Meanwhile, the scent of her perfume worked on him still…and he began to think of the fun of stealing kisses far too much.

  “This is a fortune,” she whispered, unaware of his reaction to her.

  He shrugged away her wonder. He’d do more if he could get away with it. “It’s hardly anything I’ll miss.”

  He heard a noise and, instead of fleeing alone, he drew Miss Hillcrest farther along the terrace with him into deeper shadows. Now they would really cause a scandal if they were found alone together so far from everyone. Society would certainly misunderstand.

  The money crackled as she clenched it tighter in her hand. “Maybe to someone like you it is, but a woman of my modest means wouldn’t ever carry about this much in funds on such a night. It would draw attention.”

  He hadn’t truly thought of who he was handing his money to, just the need to get it into the right hands. He was briefly annoyed that he’d chosen the one woman who couldn’t do as he asked immediately. Or was haste unnecessary if success was inevitable?

  He did want to be discreet with his generosity. There were those waiting to watch a proud man like Norrington fall and be forced to sell valuable property to cover his mounting debts. “Then lose as much to her as you deem prudent tonight, but get the rest to her within a week.”

  Miss Hillcrest’s eyes widened. “You’d trust me to hold this much money for you?”

  “I will be watching you closely, Miss Hillcrest. If you fail me, I’ll ruin you.”

  A funny sound escaped her as she stuffed the money into her reticule. “Would you really?”

  “I am not joking, Miss Hillcrest.”