A Lady Compromised (The Ladies)

by Pennington, Ava

  His hands were warm and Delia felt slightly dazed as he caressed the soft skin above her knees. She plucked helplessly at his coat and was about to pull apart his cravat when Mason stilled her hand.

  “If you undress me,” he said with a hitch in his voice, “There is no turning back. I can keep myself under control if I am fully clothed but not if you begin to pull off your only defense against me.”

  Her breath was short and Delia gazed into his eyes, with pupils large with lust. She kissed his temple and ventured a kiss on his mouth but drew back as he leaned into her. Two could play at this game, she had decided.

  “You are weaker than I,” she teased. “As I seem to be perfectly capable of keeping myself under control.”

  “That is not true,” Mason said with a scowl. “You are simply ignorant and do not know what you may be missing. Whereas I do.”

  “My ignorance is bliss then,” she said and kissed him again, this time on the jaw, near his ear. She traced his eyebrows and lips with a warm finger and said with complete guilelessness, “I haven’t the faintest idea how you are going to continue fully dressed when you are constantly undressing me. And in your own house, no less! I should probably refuse to be alone in a room with you for the duration of my stay.”

  He kissed her again and groaned into her mouth. “That is certainly the wisest action, but I cannot say I approve.”

  “Once again, you are insisting on approving my actions. Learn quickly, my lord. I shall do as I please.”

  “But you agree that you will not leave this house without my protection, or without notifying me in advance? This is not simply my overwhelming boorishness but also the fact that you are technically in hiding.”

  She sighed and turned away from him on his lap for a moment, feigning consideration.

  “I suppose if I were a heroine in my own novel, I should cry and rage and refuse. But romantic heroines are particularly blind to their own dangers, which is why they inevitably end up kidnapped. I shall endeavor to behave with more reason.” She tapped him on the nose and stood up.

  “Though I would prefer to sit on your lap and kiss you for the rest of the afternoon and evening, I really must needs finish my manuscript, which means I will forego that pleasure.”

  Mason pulled her wrist and she fell into his lap again and he kissed her until she was thoroughly breathless. She pulled back and smiled at him.

  “You are impossible. But I must finish my newest addition to the canon of flighty fiction. Perhaps I will add a new subplot involving a Marquess who cannot stop kissing the lady he is supposed to be shielding from a vicious guardian?”

  “Another vicious guardian? Have you no imagination?”

  “Hush. You haven’t the faintest idea how different this book is. Now,” she said, standing, “I will see you for supper. In the mean time, please direct me to where I may continue my writing.”

  The Marquess sighed, but rose and led her out of the study into the front hall and then toward a back drawing room done in pale green with a pretty writing desk and two matching, delicate gilt armchairs from Morel & Hughes, upholstered in pale jade velvet. Then he froze.

  “Harriet,” he said. Delia started with surprise at the pretty, young brunette lounging in a velvet-upholstered chaise as they entered the room. “Harriet, my dear, arise from your recumbent and unladylike position for one moment while I introduce you to my fiancé, Lady Delia Ellsworth.”

  Delia and Harriet both gasped.

  “How dare you!” Harriet shouted as she jumped up with glee, “You told me specifically you were not engaged to Lady Delia! My lady,” Harriet curtseyed sweetly at Delia and Delia did the same, mechanically, unsure of what to say.

  “As I’m sure you are aware, the circumstances of our engagement were…unusual,” Mason began, “And I was unsure how to broach the subject. However, Lady Delia is unfortunately in a position where we cannot marry due to the refusal of her guardian, who wishes to marry her himself. Until we have untangled the legal documents purporting to grant this guardianship and preventing our marriage, Lady Delia must remain in our home, secretly.”

  “How romantic!” sighed Harriet. “I have always wanted a sister! And now I will have one!”

  Delia shot the Marquess a look of severe vexation but then smiled at the young woman. “Of course! I am delighted to be gaining a sister as well. I only regret we must meet in such odd circumstances. I was living quite happily on my own when your brother officiously forced me to move into his home, which in my opinion is quite inappropriate.”

  “Unmarried young ladies with reputations to uphold do not masquerade as widows and live alone and unchaperoned in rented houses in Charles Street.”

  “You did that?” asked Lady Harriet with awe.

  “I did. And I am sure I should never have had a single problem if your brother had not encountered me and proceeded with his boorish bossiness to bring me here.”

  “You were obviously courting danger, as you went to the opera without a care as to who would see you,” Mason hissed furiously.

  “And I am quite sure that it is not appropriate to discuss this in front of Lady Harriet?” Delia supplied at the Marquess threatening look. “I apologize again, Lady Harriet, for my unconventional appearance in your home.”

  “It’s no matter—I’m quite thrilled! Only, it’s too bad you can’t go out or we should go and shop together. I have an excessively proper governess who never wishes to accompany me on expeditions to purchase anything amusing. Only ancient literature, which is quite tiresome.”

  “It is indeed a misfortune that I must not go out but I remain confident that it is only a short time until my guardianship is dissolved.”

  The Marquess cocked an eyebrow at her and made to withdraw.

  “I will leave you two here, then, to sort out a long and expensive shopping list for when you are both free to pursue it. I trust it will not eventually bankrupt me. Ladies, your servant.”

  As he withdrew, Lady Delia walked to the window to gather her thoughts without her companion seeing everything on her face. She looked out and asked in a voice that sounded quite controlled, to her surprise, “Is this your sitting room? I should be sorry to invade it if you would prefer privacy?”

  “Oh, no not at all! I would love to have company. And it’s not my sitting room at all. I have a small private sitting room off my bedchamber in the unlikely event I want to be alone, but truly, Lady Delia, I should be so pleased to have you here! In the afternoons, twice a week at least, I am permitted by my governess to read what I please and it is oh so lovely to have someone else to discuss it with during my free time. The other days I’m afraid I am in the schoolroom, memorizing The Poetics or something else frightfully boring.”

  “Well, I shall be delighted to keep you company.”

  Chapter 23

  The next morning, Mason rose early with the intention of visiting his solicitor. He recalled as he bathed that when he had led Delia to the sitting room where his sister would be, he had momentarily forgotten that she was at home. Generally, Lady Harriet spent the majority of her time in town with his aunt, as his appointments and lifestyle were not conducive to the supervision of a young lady. But his aunt had been detained in the country with a sick child and Harriet had been thus unable to stay in her townhouse and resided with her brother.

  He had quite completely forgotten about her presence in the house and had to think quickly. The fact that Delia had yet to agree to marry him was not of a concern to him. He knew it was clear that she desired him and she responded to his caresses like a moth to flame; she was simply too inexperienced to know her own mind. And it was impossible for him to permit her to marry someone else. The thought of another man’s hands on her beautiful body was unacceptable. He thought of Rosewood manhandling her and bruising her perfect flesh and his fists clenched. If he had succeeded in raping her the night she had fled into his chamber…his mind went black at the thought.

  As the Marquess entered the office
s of his London solicitor, he wondered if anyone had changed the interior since the days when everyone, not just barristers, wore powdered wigs. The ancient furniture was heavy but serviceable and he was shown briskly into the office of the elder Mr. Jarndyce.

  “Good morning, my lord,” Mr. Jarndyce said as he stood to welcome the Marquess.

  “Good morning, Jarndyce,” he replied, “I appreciate your seeing me on such short notice.”

  “Indeed, sir. It is of no consequence. I am honored to make time for your lordship and received your notice yesterday. With what may I be of assistance?”

  “Well, I am here on a somewhat delicate matter and I am sure I have your complete confidentiality and discretion?”

  “I will, of course, conduct my behavior according to the highest standards of professional responsibility, your lordship.”

  “I am unsure if you are aware, sir, but nearly eight months ago, the Earl of Ellsworth died and left a daughter, Lady Delia, to the guardianship of a Christopher Rosewood?”

  “News of his lordship’s death was published but I was unaware of the identity of Lady Delia’s guardian. May I conclude that you were acquainted with the late Earl?”

  “Yes. But that is not my primary reason for consulting you. It is rather that the Lady Delia and I are engaged. However, and there is really no other way I can describe this to you, Mr. Rosewood does not approve of the match. He is not, in point of fact, even aware of the engagement. Mr. Rosewood wishes to marry the Lady Delia himself and has taken steps to encourage the match. It is only because Lady Delia fled her home at Washburn Court that her guardian did not succeed in forcing the union. I am, of course, not a solicitor, but is this not then some breach of fiduciary duty?”

  “I must say, my lord, I am quite disturbed. Is the Lady Delia unharmed?”

  “She is protected and unharmed on one of my properties.”

  “It is a breach of fiduciary duty for a guardian to attempt to coerce his ward to marry him. However a suit at equity is always unpleasant—“

  “Is there any way that if our engagement were announced, he could prevent the marriage?”

  “It would depend on the guardianship language in the late Earl’s will. Generally, marriages may not be refused absent reasonable objections to the suitor such as impecuniousness or position.”

  “Neither of which apply to me,” Mason stated.

  “Quite so, my lord.”

  “However, I would need to examine the guardianship provisions.”

  “What does that require from me?”

  “I will enquire as to the identity of the late Earl’s solicitor, confidentially of course, and indicate that there has been a proposal of marriage, which has been declined by the guardian and we believe there is no basis for the refusal. I will request copies of the documents with that purpose in mind and will inform you as to the result as soon as I am able to review them.”

  “Thank you, Jarndyce. And I am pleased that I may rely on your utmost discretion in this matter. I am sure you understand that there is the potential for extremely unpleasant consequences should this situation be generally known.”

  “It would be my professional pleasure to resolve this situation for your lordship with the utmost discretion.”

  “I will await your report.”

  “Quite so, my lord. I will pursue this matter with haste.”

  As Mason left, he was confident that Jarndyce would resolve the issue quickly and he would be able to marry Lady Delia with little delay. He had only to devise a way to revive her reputation in the ton and convince the lady herself. Those, he reflected, would not be so easily delegated. Now, he wondered, what ought he do with Gigi?

  Chapter 24

  Christopher Rosewood was having an exceedingly frustrating journey from Washburn Court. He had traveled to London for the express purpose of seeing Gigi, only to have her relay to him that she had not heard from the Marquess in several days. He had found her small house in Sparrow Street quiet and dark and Gigi herself distraught.

  “Whatever is going on? I thought you have everything under control?”

  “Well clearly, I thought I had! Only the last time he was here, he said he was too intoxicated to make love—I could not tell if it was true—but then he left and I haven’t had a word since!”

  “You don’t write to him?”

  “But of course I have! But I have heard nothing. Perhaps he is in the country.”

  “Do you think it possible that he is done with you?”

  “It is possible…but he is accounted a very polite and generous protector. From what I have heard, it would be extremely unlike him to simply disappear without a word, or without any provision for me.”

  “Have you tried to charge at any of the credit accounts he arranged?”

  “No, though that is a markedly clever plan. I do hate the idea of that horrible modiste telling me to my face I can no longer have credit. She will positively revel in it.”

  “This is a problem,” Mr. Rosewood said, with absolutely no conviction, as he examined his nails.

  “I know this is a problem! Whatever am I supposed to do? The Marquess is gone and I have nothing in the way of relevant information to blackmail him! I was only just beginning to get anything out of our conversations and...and, you can’t even find your own ward!”

  “I believe she is in the city. We simply must discover where.”

  “That should be excessively simple in this city of one million people.”

  “Your wit is tiresome.”

  “You have entirely misplaced a twenty-year old chit with no skills!”

  Christopher sat down in Gigi’s tiny drawing room and pulled her onto his lap. He toyed with her dark curls and she sighed with boredom and frustration.

  “It makes absolutely no sense that the Marquess would simply disappear without notice or provision. But that is precisely what he has done, and so has your dratted ward. You do not think--”

  “They hardly even know each other! But I confess it does strike one as odd.”

  “If you are correct, and she did spend the night in his chambers, that is not an experience that lends itself to continued innocence.”

  “You know that I made that up entirely! And she is as frigid as the old nuns at your convent school. I didn’t wait for her to come out but I estimate it took very little time for the Marquess to rid himself of my unwelcoming ward.”

  “Perhaps I will send a messenger over to Durham House? I shall send a note with an invitation. Then we shall see.”

  Gigi drafted a note to the Marquess making appropriate sounds about how much she missed him and how she grew restless without entertainment. She signed the paper, scented it, and gave it to her maid with instructions to wait for a response. While she and Christopher waited, Gigi inventoried the items she wished to take with her when they moved to Rosewood House.

  “I am tired of waiting. Let us repair to Rosewood House and then—“

  “I have told you Rosewood House is let. It is mortgaged to the hilt and I cannot make even small payments without the income from the lease. That is why I was so eager to stay and live at Washburn Court! How can you forget these details? The new Earl is still not yet arrived but I had hoped to have married Lady Delia by now! As soon as the heir arrives the likelihood of me marrying her is quite non-existent! Which is why I had hoped you would have managed to find anything helpful information from the Marquess who you seemed to be merely enjoying, rather than extorting.”

  “He is delicious,” Gigi said. Christopher glared at her and dragged his gaze up from her bosom.

  “You are supposed to be for sale,” he said coldly. “And yet you seemed to have been entertaining the Marquess for free.”

  “He pays for this house. And for my bills.”

  “Where is the jewelry he gave you?”

  “I have none so far. We have not been long together.”

  “That is the whole point of being a mistress! Anyone can keep you for six months or
a year, but you need jewelry to sell when you are between protectors and to generate a small nest egg so that you may live in comfort when you no longer wish to work.”

  “I am not ignorant of the requirements of my position. I have been doing this since I was fourteen. Do not lecture me.”

  At that moment the maid came in, breathless from her errand to Durham House. She held no missive from the Marquess in her hand but gasped nonetheless.

  “Ma’am! There was no message from his lordship. The butler made that clear. But I did hear when a chambermaid came up to him and asked him if she should be cleaning Lady Delia’s chamber. Lady Delia—isn’t that the lady you—Mr. Rosewood—you are looking for?”

  Christopher and Gigi looked at each other, speechless.

  “Yes, dear girl, yes, thank you,” Christopher managed to reply. “That was very observant of you and thank you very much.” He dismissed the girl and she bobbed a sloppy curtsey and left the two alone. As they moved to the back bedroom to discuss the disaster, Christopher tugged at Gigi’s gown. “I am very, very, angry,” he said.

  “And I am very, very, afraid of you,” she replied demurely.

  “What will you do to reassure me?” he asked when she had reached her boudoir.

  “I cannot think what I could possibly do,” Gigi replied, “But I will show you how very sorry I am.”

  “You will,” affirmed Christopher with a grimace.

  Gigi found a satin band to bind her wrists and stood with her head bent to wait for him to undress her. She inhaled deeply and smiled. It had been too long since she had been with Christopher and his riding crop.

  Chapter 25