A Scandalous Passion

by Kelly Boyce

  Whatever willpower he’d clung to snapped. His arms tightened around her and he stood, bringing her with him. His senses spiraled out of control as her body moulded against his and her mouth opened to accept his kiss. He heard her gasp when he ran his tongue along the inside of her lip and knew when her body relinquished any last shred of doubt.

  Spence sunk his hand into the thick, glorious mane of her hair to keep her mouth on his as he backed her toward the bed, a dance he was well practiced at, yet somehow felt new. He eased her down onto it and when she gave him no resistance, he joined her and pulled her close. The length of her fully against him made him long for the moment when he could sink himself fully into her and find himself home—

  A sharp rap caught him unaware.

  “M’lady? It’s Elsie. I’ve come to help you get ready for bed.”

  Reality clamoured in. Spence jumped to his feet with such force he stumbled backward and landed on his backside. He sat there, staring up at Lady Caelie in horror, though in truth, it was his own behavior that horrified him.

  Sweet Judas, what had he done?

  Elsie rapped on the door once again. “M’lady?”

  For her part, Caelie looked equally as horrified. She sat up and stared at him then down at the quilt beneath her as if she had no recollection of how she had gone from the table to the bed. He couldn’t quite recollect it himself. One moment he’d been lost in his memories and the next, she had rescued him from them.

  “Y-yes, Elsie. I’m…yes, one moment please.” Lady Caelie’s voice had an edge of hysteria to it. She took in a deep breath that pressed her breasts against the scooped neckline of her dress. He looked quickly away. “Lord Huntsleigh—”

  Spence held up a hand to ward off…what? Recrimination? Anger? The fact that his life had just been altered forever and there was no turning back? “Lady Caelie—”

  She cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Whatever you are about to say, don’t say it.” Her cheeks flamed red, though whether from the passion they had shared or the shame she felt in its aftermath, Spence could not be certain. “This was my doing.”

  “You were not the only one involved.”

  “But I initiated it.”

  “I have compromised you—”

  “It was just a kiss.”

  Except it wasn’t. There was much more to it. She hadn’t just kissed him. She had changed him. The moment her lips had touched him something inside of him shifted out of place. Spence had kissed more women than he could count and not once in any of those kisses had he experienced what he’d felt in this one. The loss of control, being swept up into something much bigger than his own desires. The sense of coming home.

  The idea terrified him.

  “Either way, we must m-marry—” He stumbled over the word.

  “No.”

  “No?” He didn’t understand. “Is that not what you wanted? Marriage?”

  Lady Caelie stood and ran her hand down her skirt to straighten it. Her hair had pulled free of its pins on one side where he’d sunk his hands into it. Lord, it had been soft. Like silk. Just looking at the tumbled mess he’d made of her made him want her all over again.

  She squared her shoulders. “I promised you I would not force you into marriage.”

  “I have compromised you. There is no other choice. You are upset, not thinking clearly.”

  She shook her head. “No, you are the one who is not thinking clearly. No one knows what happened. There is no reason for such drastic action.”

  “But—”

  She cut him off. “You should get up. I must answer the door. Elsie is waiting for me.”

  The new maid. Of course. The woman meant to act as chaperone so things like this did not occur. Spence leapt to his feet and brushed off his breeches.

  “Caelie.” He reached out a hand as she walked past him without sparing a glance and he could not shake the sense he had been dismissed. Dismissed. Him. He could not recall that ever happening before. He did not care for it.

  Caelie opened the door and Elsie stood on the other side. The maid’s gaze went to him first and then Caelie and a smile played about her lips.

  “Please come in, Elsie. Forgive me, I had forgotten I’d asked you to come up.”

  Thank God she had, Spence thought. He did not dare consider what might have happened had they not been so unceremoniously interrupted. One thing for certain, it would not have ended at just a kiss.

  “I will give you your privacy,” he said. He needed to leave, to regain his beleaguered senses and restore his equilibrium. In the span of a few moments he’d gone from playing cards, to revealing his darkest memories, to kissing an innocent and nearly more, then insisting they marry only to be rejected.

  He needed a good stiff drink followed by several more stiff drinks because none of what had happened made any sense to him at all.

  * * *

  Caelie’s heartbeat took its time returning to normal. Elsie bustled about the room pulling down the bed and laying out her bedclothes. What had she done? What he must think of her!

  Her heart had broken for the little boy who had witnessed such devastation, who had lost his parents and been left in the dark, alone and frightened. And her heart broke for the man who was still haunted by the wreckage of that day, and all the days that preceded it, creating a vision of marriage he could not shake.

  She had meant to offer comfort, but—

  “Beg your pardon, m’lady if I…interrupted anythin’ between you and ’is lordship,” Elsie said as she pulled the pins from Caelie’s hair, those that were left at least.

  Caelie’s skin flushed anew. “That is quite alright. I mean, that is to say you didn’t interrupt anything. We were just—”

  “Oh now, no need to be embarrassed. It’s a natural thing and his lordship is a fine specimen, if you don’t mind me sayin’. Though I suppose as lady’s maid it isn’t my place to say, is it?”

  “I would prefer if you speak your mind, Elsie. I don’t wish there to be any secrets between us.” But there already was, wasn’t there. Caelie motioned toward a chair near the fire. “Perhaps you should take a seat and I will tell you the whole story. Then you may decide whether you still wish to accompany me to London.”

  Elsie took the offered seat. “M’lady?”

  Caelie folded her hands in front of her primly and took a deep breath. “My name is not Lady Thurston.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No. And Lord Thurston is not Lord Thurston. He is Lord Huntsleigh.”

  “And you are Lady Huntsleigh then?”

  Caelie swallowed. “No. I am Lady Caelie Laytham.”

  “I see.” Suspicion crept into her eyes.

  Caelie flushed yet again. “It is not quite as awful as it sounds. I am not Lord Huntsleigh’s mistress, though I am certain that is what it must appear and the assumption we assumed false identities to avoid.”

  She gave Elsie a full accounting of her illness on the ship and the need to set ashore, as well as Mother’s refusal to accompany her, leaving Lord Huntsleigh no other alternative but to do so to ensure she made it home safely to London.

  “It sounds as if Lord Huntsleigh has done you a great service.”

  “He has. Unfortunately, with only one room available at the inn, we needed to create a ruse in order to preserve my reputation. I assure you nothing untoward happened between us. Lord Huntsleigh has behaved with all due honor.” A small lie, but not enough of one to make Caelie feel bad about telling it. After all, she was as responsible as he for what had happened between them.

  “Shame.” Elsie smiled. “He’s a handsome lord and I think you make a right handsome couple. Maisy says he’s as charmin’ as they get with those blue eyes and devilish smile. Don’t know how you can resist. Why, she tried to turn his ’ead every chance she got, but he wasn’t havin’ anythin’ of it. Figured it was on account of you.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” C
aelie said. “He’ll be happy to be soon rid of me, I think. Marriage is not something he courts with any great enthusiasm. And I do not want him to suffer any unwanted repercussions for helping me.”

  “And what about what you want, m’lady?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “If he was willing, would you want to marry him?”

  Yes. The answer rushed into her head but she clamped her mouth shut before she spoke it. She could not deny her feelings for him even if she didn’t fully understand them, but she would not allow them to rob Lord Huntsleigh of the freedom he so deeply coveted.

  “I would prefer to marry a man who returns my affections. But if I have any hope of doing that, I will need to arrive in London with the appearance of having had a proper chaperone and lady’s maid. Are you still willing, Elsie?”

  Elsie patted her hand. “Of course, I am. The way I see it, sometimes a body needs to do what a body needs t’do.”

  Relief welled inside of her. “I appreciate your understanding, Elsie, and your assistance in this matter. I have spoken with Lord Huntsleigh and he believes we should leave within the next day or so. Will you be ready?”

  “Of course, m’lady. You’ve only to say the word and I’ll be ready. Now, what say we get you ready for bed before ’is lordship comes back? We wouldn’t want ’im to see you in a state of undress, given the circumstances.”

  “No, we wouldn’t.” Though the circumstances she had in mind were likely far different than the ones Elsie referred to.

  After Elsie had left, sleep refused to come. Caelie tossed and turned until she gave up on sleep and stared up at the ceiling barely illuminated by the stoked fire.

  Likely Lord Huntsleigh would not let the matter of the intimacies they had shared drop. If he brought up the matter of marriage again, insisting they had no choice, should she agree? She wanted to marry a man who wanted to marry her, yes, but given the passion that had erupted between them so swiftly, could there be more there than Lord Huntsleigh recognized? Could he have feelings for her? He had revealed a deep secret to her after all. That had to mean something. And if not affection, something existed, did it not? Perhaps whatever had stoked their desires could in time develop into a deeper affection.

  He would need to marry in the end. He could not escape it. Eventually, Lord Huntsleigh would run out of time and places to hide and would be required to provide an heir to the title. Would it be so awful if she filled the role? They could provide each other with what they needed—she a husband and a family; he an heir.

  The idea pleased her greatly, but would the reality stand up to it?

  Did she dare try to find out?

  * * *

  Spence kept his distance from the room he and Caelie shared while Miss Brampton helped prepare her for bed. He had no idea how long such things took—most of the ladies of his acquaintance didn’t usually dress for bed when with him, and he preferred to undress them at his leisure. Although with Caelie, he’d been as eager as a green boy to strip away everything that created a barrier between his skin and hers.

  Sweet Judas!

  He slammed another shot of brandy down his throat. How many did he have to drink before he erased the image from his mind and the sensations from his body? Already his head swam, yet she remained firmly entrenched in his thoughts.

  Spence cleared his throat and waved to Brampton for a refill.

  His behavior had been deplorable. Never before had he put himself in a position where honor dictated a marriage proposal. He avoided innocents at all costs. The women he consorted with were fully cognizant of the fact their assignations were nothing more than two bodies slaking their lust. There were no complications, no expectations.

  Until now.

  Until Caelie had managed to captivate him with such stealth he had not even been aware it was happening.

  How had he not been aware she possessed such abilities? It made him question his powers of observation. Then again, Bowen often told him he didn’t take enough time to look beneath the surface of things. His friend had the right of it. If what he saw pleased him, he did not look any further. If something he saw didn’t please him, he did not delve deeper, but instead moved on to something else.

  But held captive in a room with Caelie for several days he’d had no choice but to see beyond the surface. And what he discovered, he had been completely unprepared for.

  Spence shot a stealthy glance over his shoulder. The common room had filled up. He knew he should not linger, but he could not go upstairs until enough time had passed that Caelie was fast asleep. He had gone outside initially and walked until his feet hurt, but rain chased him back inside. He kept his back to the growing crowd and his head bowed over his drink.

  The raucous voices of men lifted to the exposed beams above, punctuated here and there with a high pitched giggle of a serving girl or one of Mr. Brampton’s daughters.

  “My Elsie is done assisting Lady Thurston, m’lord. If’n ye want to go back upstairs.” Mr. Brampton set a fresh brandy in front of him.

  Spence nodded and reached for the drink, but made no move to leave. He lifted the brandy but before he could take a sip a hand slapped his back and caused the drink to spill over the edge of the glass onto his hand.

  “Huntsleigh! It is you, my good man!”

  Chapter Eight

  Spence closed his eyes. Bloody. Hell.

  He eyed the bar and gauged his ability to leap over and hide behind it. But it was a bit late for that, wasn’t it? He’d already been discovered. Best he let things play out. He would make whatever excuses were necessary, then quickly leave.

  He turned around.

  Oh, bloodiest of all bloody hells.

  Fate officially had it in for him in.

  “Billingsworth.” He forced a smile. “Odd to find you here.”

  “I could say the same about you. I had no idea you were closely acquainted with Lord Iber. I do assume that is why you are here?”

  “You assume wrong. It is pure happenstance. I was on my way to the West Indies in fact when I, uh, was called back to London. Urgent business.” He did not bother to mention his urgent business comprised of conveying Billingsworth’s former fiancée back to the city. That would not do. The lord gossiped like an old woman. One word from him and Lady Caelie’s cousin, Lord Glenmor, Spence’s grandfather, and Nick, would be awaiting their arrival with a vicar in tow.

  “Doesn’t one travel to the islands by ship?”

  The man’s grasp of the obvious astounded. “Yes. That is the usual way.”

  “Then how did you receive your message to return?”

  Spence blinked. He liked Billingsworth better when he was being obtuse. “Carrier pigeon.”

  “Carrier pigeon? They can do that?”

  “Obviously.” In truth, he had no idea what a carrier pigeon could do, having never used such an antiquated mode of communication, but one little pigeon finding a ship in the middle of the English Channel did stretch the bounds of probability. Still, no reason Billingsworth needed to know this.

  “Well, how fortuitous we have met. I do declare there are not many of Lord Iber’s acquaintances I am overly familiar with. Of course, he is but a viscount and he’s marrying the daughter of a French aristocrat, so I suppose it stands to reason, does it not?”

  The pompous tone in Billingsworth’s voice drove nails into his skull. The man affected more airs than he was due. What had Caelie ever seen in him? “Are you not a viscount?”

  Billingsworth straightened and his eyes widened as if Spence had delivered a most grievous insult. “It is a courtesy title, much like your own. In time, I will be an earl, as you well know.”

  “And I a marquess,” Spence said, unable to hide the smirk. “Should I only consort with those of my rank or higher then? I should be most grieved to hear this, as my closest friends are not. Blackbourne is like you, but an earl, and I’m afraid poor Mr. Bowen has no rank at all.” And both were ten times the man Billingsworth could ever hop
e to be.

  “Indeed, I am certain you may consort with whomever you choose, though why you have chosen those two is beyond me. As you said, Mr. Bowen, though once your grandfather’s ward, is but a gentleman and no more and Lord Blackbourne…well…” He shrugged. “We all know what sort he is, don’t we?”

  The slight against Nick’s character stoked Spence’s ire. In the back of his mind, he heard Bowen’s voice advising caution and a clear head. But he had not shown an aptitude for either this evening and he doubted he would start now.

  He leaned in and affected his most innocent of expressions. “What sort might that be? The sort to breach a promise of marriage once given? Oh no, wait—” He straightened and poked a finger into Billingsworth’s soft chest. “That was you. Lady Caelie Laytham if I recall. Quite a beautiful woman.”

  Billingsworth sputtered before he managed to spit out his answer. “And riddled with scandal.”

  “Was she?” He scratched his chin as if giving the ludicrous claim serious consideration. “I thought it the late Lord Glenmor who had courted scandal. I remember Lady Caelie as being quite modest in nature.”

  “The sins of the father are rested upon the child!”

  Spence’s fists clenched. “Horse shit.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Billingsworth puffed up with self-righteous indignation. If Spence poked him in the chest again, likely the pompous buffoon would burst. A delightful thought.

  Spence didn’t bother repeating himself as he knew Billingsworth had heard him clearly enough the first time. “You may have convinced the rest of the ton that your reasons for breaching your promise of marriage to Lady Caelie had to do with the scandal that tarnished her family name, but you and I both know better, don’t we?”

  “I know nothing of the sort. I made my proposal to Lady Caelie because at the time she came from a good family with a respectable name and fortune.” But the first hint of fear had edged into Billingsworth’s pale brown eyes and Spence knew his suspicions were on the mark.

  “I suspect it was the fortune part that caught your attention more than anything else.”

  “Preposterous!”