She was watching him, her eyes slanted and gleaming through her lashes. As he had in the coach, he noted the triumphant expression in them, as if she knew what she was doing to him, and she was enjoying it. Of course she was, she had brought him to this meeting, hadn’t she? After he had sworn never to attend such a thing?
Oliver took her arm firmly in his and, as her brow creased with sudden unease, began to thread his way through the crowd heading for the supper table.
Vivianna tried to tug herself free of his grip, but he did not release her. “Lord Montegomery,” she said a little desperately, and she wasn’t smiling now. “I am a guest here. I cannot just leave. I must say goodbye—”
“Miss Greentree!” a bright-eyed woman twittered. “And Lord Montegomery! How wonderful that you have come to our little meeting. So gratifying to see a new face in our midst.”
“Mrs. St. Claire, I am sure that Lord Montegomery would be more than happy to—”
“Miss Greentree has another engagement,” Oliver said, barely pausing. “An urgent one. My apologies, Mrs.—eh—St. Claire, but her presence is needed at once at the Shelter for Poor Orphans.”
“Oh dear,” the woman cried. “I hope it is not bad news?”
“I’m afraid it is. The orphans are revolting,” he said, and strode determinedly toward the door.
Behind him, Mrs. St. Claire gasped, but in a moment the door had closed on them all and he was alone with Vivianna in a wide corridor lit by gaslights. The babble of voices receded behind them until the only disturbance was the sound of their steps, the rustle of Vivianna’s skirts, and the soft hissing of the gas.
“That was very rude,” she said, a tremor in her voice.
She was angry with him, and rightly so. He had behaved abominably, but he couldn’t seem to help it. She drove him to it.
Doors were closed on either side of them. On impulse, Oliver opened one and glimpsed a smallish sitting room. It was empty, and he drew Vivianna inside and closed the door.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, and finally tugged free of him. She straightened her sleeve with quick, angry jerks, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. “I think you should apologize, my lord.”
“I apologize,” Oliver retorted. He stood watching her as she attempted to smooth out every crease in her attire, and gradually the irritation drained out of him. “What are you up to, Vivianna?”
She didn’t look at him. “Up to? Nothing at all. Now, if you will excuse me, I must—”
“No, I won’t excuse you, and yes, you are up to something. You’re driving me to madness.”
She was pleased! He saw the flicker in those hazel depths.
“Aha!”
Warily she watched him step closer, until the toes of his shoes brushed her skirts. “What do you mean, aha?”
“You want to drive me mad,” he retorted. “I wonder why.” Her skirts and petticoats gave way before him, pushed back by his forward movement, and he took another step. He was close enough now that her breasts were brushing his chest. He did not touch her with his hands, not yet, although he had to clench his fingers into fists at his sides to stop himself. But he was not ready yet.
“I want you to see that to demolish Candlewood is a terrible mistake, that is all.”
Vivianna heard her own voice waver and swallowed down whatever emotion was trying to break free. He was looming over her in a most intimidating manner, but she wasn’t intimidated. All she could feel was the warmth of his body against hers, the hard muscle of his thigh where it rested hard against her skirts, and the low timbre of his voice vibrating through her.
“I think, after what I have been through tonight I deserve some reward,” he said in that drawling tone she knew so well.
“Nonsense.”
He smiled and loomed closer. “But I do, Vivianna. You forget, a bad man like me isn’t used to being surrounded by so much goodness.”
“Even rakes can change their habits,” she said, and then wished she could bite the words back. Of course rakes couldn’t change their habits! She knew that, she had seen it firsthand.
But his smile broadened and he ducked his head and took her mouth in a hot, all-enveloping kiss. Vivianna, surprised, was quickly overtaken by the feel of his lips on hers. She moaned softly. Somehow she had slid her own hands around him, beneath his jacket, her own palms flat against the hard muscles of his back. He felt marvelous, and the seductress inside her wanted more.
Oliver’s fingers had fought their way beneath the tight bodice, beneath the soft cotton of her chemise, and found her nipple. A shiver of surprise and pleasure ran through Vivianna as he stroked her. The intimate place between her legs tingled as if it had suddenly come alive.
“I like that,” she purred, remembering Aphrodite’s instructions. “Do it again.”
His eyes glittered. “I have a better idea….” He reached around her, his hands dangerously quick and practiced, and opened several of the fastenings that held the bodice in place.
The plum dress sagged, slipping down her arms, revealing the curves of her breasts and the delicate stuff of her chemise and boned corset. Her bosom was pushed up by the stays, and he brushed away the coverings and bared her to his gaze. Her full breasts looked swollen, and her nipples seemed to point at him.
Shocked at the sight of herself naked before him, Vivianna gasped and put her hands up to hide her flesh, but he caught them and slowly, firmly drew her hands away. For a moment he just looked, his eyes caressing her, exploring the full curves and soft white flesh, the darker tips and hard little nubs of her nipples. And then, when she thought she would die if he did not do something, say something, he lifted his hand and stroked his finger across one nipple and then the other.
“Oh,” she gasped, the sensation so intense her knees went weak.
He took no notice and, bending his head, closed his hot, moist mouth over the peak of her breast and began to gently suck upon her.
It was like nothing Vivianna had ever imagined. She heard herself make a sound like a little growl, and reached up to cup his head in her hands, holding him closer. His tongue played with her, and then his teeth grazed across that so-sensitive flesh. His other hand lifted to squeeze and mold her other breast, and as she looked down at him touching her, Vivianna felt as if she had never seen anything more exciting.
A sound beyond the door, out in the corridor. Vivianna jumped back, covering herself, suddenly aware of where they were, how dangerous this was. The danger was part of the excitement, she accepted that, but that did not mean she wanted to be found here by Mrs. St. Claire or Lady Chapman.
She began to tug up her bodice, though the rasp of the cloth against her breasts was almost painful.
After a moment of watching her struggle, Oliver gave an impatient sigh and turned her gently but firmly about, refastening the back of her dress himself. “We seem fated to be interrupted,” he said. “I see another long sleepless night ahead.”
Vivianna glanced at him over her shoulder. “I did not realize. Do you mean that you suffer, because you do not…?”
Oliver’s brows lifted. “I suffer,” he agreed.
She smiled.
Oliver ran his hands over her shoulders and down over her bodice, cupping her breasts through the cloth, and his breath was hot against her ear. “That pleases you, you little devil,” he whispered. “There is nothing saintly about you after all, is there, Miss Greentree?”
Vivianna shivered from his hands and his warm breath, but her voice was firm. “I am no shrinking violet,” she agreed.
He laughed. “Indeed you’re not.”
He dropped his hands and stepped away, and she was sorry, but also relieved. She had enjoyed the feel of his mouth on her, but she had felt as if she were on the verge of losing control again. The seductress in her had awoken and stirred and Vivianna had set her free, but there had not been enough time for her to test all her powers.
Tell him how you feel….
“I cannot slee
p either,” she said quietly.
Oliver looked up from straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair, his dark blue gaze suddenly intense.
“I dreamed of you,” she went on, forcing all thoughts of self-consciousness from herself, concentrating on him, on pleasing him, and on pleasing herself. “I dreamed you were touching me, your fingers inside me, and then I…”
“You climaxed,” he said, but there was a rigid tension in him that made her think he was very interested in what she was saying.
“Yes. I wished you were in my bed with me. Your bare skin against mine.”
He groaned and shook his head. “Go away, Vivianna, please. Go home. If you don’t, I can’t be responsible.”
Vivianna went to the door, but stopped to glance at him once more. He was watching her with a mixture of longing and irritation, as if he did not like the things he was feeling.
“Go home,” he repeated, “and get some sleep.” His eyes narrowed. “Believe me, you’ll need it.”
Vivianna closed the door behind her and found she was quite breathless. Her breasts still ached and her lips felt swollen, but she did not mind that. She did not mind that at all.
Inside the room Oliver rubbed his hand over his jaw and stared at the empty fireplace. There were too many vital matters happening right now to risk them for an affair with Vivianna Greentree.
I dreamed about you.
Her words drifted through his mind and he shook his head again, as if he would dislodge them. Why had her admission shaken him so? And yet the thought of Vivianna dreaming of him, thinking of him, alone in her bed at night, made him desperate to hold her in his arms. Not to kiss or touch her, although he would do that, but rather just to hold her. To hold her close and warm, and enjoy the feeling of no longer being alone.
Lord Lawson was weary. He felt the weariness in his mind, in his eyes, in his very bones. He was so close to his goal, so very close. Sir Robert Peel might well be the next prime minister, but Lawson knew he would follow soon after. He could taste victory.
He clenched his fist in sudden anger. This weariness was Oliver Montegomery’s fault!
He had believed he was safe. Candlewood was to be demolished, and with it any chance of discovery. That Anthony had hidden the letters in that monstrosity he was so fond of was no longer in question. They were there, somewhere. The idea that they might be found at any time had almost driven Lawson mad, but when he learned the house was to come down, the relief had been indescribable.
And now there was a secret chamber…. Curse the man! To drop that little gem into the conversation like that, as if it had no importance whatsoever. Lawson had no doubt Oliver would find the hidden chamber, he was lucky like that. He would find it, and the letters inside it, and then all would be lost.
Lawson knew he couldn’t allow that to happen.
All these years he had worked toward his own success and now one mistake was threatening to pull him down. Disgrace. Scandal. It didn’t bear thinking of, and he wouldn’t think of it! Surely a man of his talents and intelligence could overcome a drunken fool like Oliver Montegomery?
Then why did he feel as if he were being purposely led down a path he had no desire to follow?
There was something wrong. Lawson felt his weariness begin to lift. Yes, that was it. Something was not as it seemed. Oliver? Could it be Oliver?
His first reaction was to laugh and dismiss his doubts. Oliver had reached the point of no return and Lawson had watched his downward slide with scorn and some pleasure. Anthony had always been so fond of his younger brother, so tolerant of his follies. Anthony had believed that in Oliver there was a great man and in time he would declare himself. But Anthony was a fool, after all. Lawson had offered him a chance to live, had explained how important it was that the letters remain secret, but Anthony had not wanted to listen. He hadn’t understood that the good of the nation was more important than such a minor consideration.
What a fool! Lawson had lost count of the number of times he had told a lie or arranged a situation to his own benefit through bribery or worse. Sometimes it was necessary to force a path through the obstacles in order to win the day. Everyone knew that!
Oliver…was he really what he seemed? Lawson would find out, and if Oliver had been playing him for a fool…Lawson smiled. Well, Oliver would pay the same price as his brother.
Vivianna, returning to Queen’s Square after a visit to Aphrodite and an hour of shopping in busy Regent Street, found Aunt Helen all aflutter.
“Lady Marsh is here!” Helen hissed, catching Vivianna’s arm as she began to divest herself of her packages—she had bought presents for all her family. “She has been waiting almost half an hour. I think she was on the verge of leaving when you came in.”
Vivianna stared at her blankly. “Lady Marsh? Lord Montegomery’s aunt?”
“Yes, yes.” Helen gave her an agonized look. “She is very formidable, Vivianna. I do not think I could have stayed with her much longer without saying something quite idiotic.”
“I see.” Vivianna straightened her back and gave a determined smile. “Lead me to her, then, Aunt Helen, I am not intimidated.”
With obvious relief, Helen did so.
Lady Marsh was ensconced upon the large armchair in the corner of the sitting room, like a queen upon her throne. She sat bolt upright, her gray hair smoothed into submission beneath her muslin bonnet, her gray silk gown subtle in its richness. Lady Marsh—despite marrying a man beneath herself—was every inch an English aristocrat, and she wanted them to know it.
Vivianna made her curtsy. “Lady Marsh, how kind of you to call.”
Lady Marsh inclined her head, but her eyes—dark blue, just like Oliver’s—fixed upon her. “You were out a very long time, Miss Greentree.”
“I am sorry. I was looking at the shops in Regent Street.”
“Not alone, I hope?”
“No, I had my maid with me.”
“Good. A young lady cannot be too careful when it comes to her reputation.”
Vivianna had the urge to tell Lady Marsh who she had been visiting before shopping, but wisely bit her lip.
“Sit down, Miss Greentree, I wish to speak with you.” Lady Marsh glanced at Helen. “Alone.”
“Oh.” Helen backed toward the door, relieved. “Of course, of course. I will leave you to talk or…I will leave you.” The door closed.
Vivianna lifted her brows at Lady Marsh, thinking her rude, and waited. Lady Marsh gave a thump on the floor with her cane, and Vivianna noticed how twisted her fingers were within the gloves. She had heard that the woman was an invalid, and it seemed the rumors were true. It must have cost her much to come here today, and if that was so, then what she had to say was clearly important to her.
Vivianna’s annoyance at Lady Marsh’s high-handed behavior, and her indignation on her aunt’s behalf, faded a little. “What did you wish to talk to me about, Lady Marsh?” she asked, more gently. “I am here now.”
Lady Marsh seemed to read her thoughts in her face, for she gave a sardonic smile, also very much like Oliver’s. “I am not at death’s door yet, Miss Greentree, although some would have you believe I was. I have come to see you because I like you. There are not many young ladies I like, but I find you are one of them. My nephew likes you, too. He is not an easy man to manage, but you seem to have the knack.”
Vivianna smiled—she could not help it. “I do not want to ‘manage’ him, Lady Marsh. I only want him to change his mind about Candlewood.”
“Nevertheless, he seems quite taken with you, Miss Greentree.”
Vivianna felt the color in her face. A little earlier she had been discussing with Aphrodite how taken with her Oliver was….
“I told him about the dream,” Vivianna had said, trying not to feel self-conscious under Aphrodite’s scrutiny. “It pleased him, I could see that.”
“Of course it did, mon chou. And he came to this meeting? A thing he professed to hate, just to see you?”
&
nbsp; “I think he must have. I cannot believe he came for his own edification. Besides, he was very rude to some of the other guests.”
Aphrodite had smiled. “He fights it, but he cannot win. You must play along with him, Vivianna, listen to your body, and then, when the moment is right, you will close your hand upon him and force him to your will.”
“When will the moment be right?” Vivianna had asked softly.
“You will know. The seductress inside you will know.”
“Miss Greentree?”
“I—I am sorry, Lady Marsh. I am sure that your nephew is not at all—”
“I am sure he is, and that you know it, no matter how modestly you may protest.”
Vivianna laughed. “You must be right, then, Lady Marsh.”
“I am always right,” the older woman said. “You may not know it, but Oliver has altered a great deal since his brother died. He needs someone to help him forget that particular episode, although his feelings for his brother, of course, do him proud. But it is time for him to put Anthony’s death behind him and move on. He has his life before him, and he is the last of the Montegomery line.”
“He needs a wife and an heir,” Vivianna replied.
Lady Marsh’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed he does. I am a little surprised, however, that you would say so. And yet…I am glad you speak plainly, Miss Greentree. I prefer it. This new generation is far too easily shocked for my liking.”
“Then I will be plain, Lady Marsh, for I prefer it, too. My interest in your nephew is his ownership of Candlewood. That is all. And I think you exaggerate my importance to him.”
Lady Marsh thumped her cane again. “Hmm, well we shall see. There was something more I wanted to ask you before I leave. My nephew is accompanying me to the opera tomorrow evening, Her Majesty’s in the Haymarket. Italian Opera—it is all the rage these days—the queen is very fond of it. They are performing L’elisir d’amore—The Elixir of Love. Sounds appalling to me, but it might be just the thing for Oliver. Will you join us?”
Sara Bennett Page 17
