by Lisa Reisner
Tabitha executed a demure curtsey. “It would be my pleasure, my lord.”
Marcus knew she would accept the dance. Becoming the next Countess of Everton was quite a coveted position. Lady Tabitha may have been many things, but she was not stupid. She would smile prettily at him during the dance and do her best to capture his interest. Marcus acknowledged that in his current state of mind that would be a near impossible task.
The evening that followed involved countless dances with the other qualified candidates on Marcus’s matrimonial list, an endless supply of watered down punch and a constant flow of matchmaking mommas eager to make his acquaintance.
It had been awful, every torturous minute of it. He would admit the women were all attractive, but Marcus found their company to be mind numbing. At one point in the evening he was ready to gouge his eyes out if he had to endure one more conversation about matching your hairstyle with your attire. He longed for a conversation of substance, or at the very least a reason to want to see one of them again, but could not find one woman in the entire ballroom that tempted his curiosity.
He asked himself the question that had been on his mind all night. Why couldn’t they be more like Abigail? Just thinking about her made him aroused. Marcus wanted to feel her warm body writhe beneath his. He imagined her long, satiny hair spilling over his chest as they furiously made love. Marcus wanted to smother Abigail’s senses with pleasure and make her scream out his name in ecstasy. Damn it! He knew if he acted on his desires it would lead to ruin.
Marcus said his goodbyes at Almack’s and left for his townhouse. Maybe the long carriage ride home would cool his hunger for Abigail.
∞
“Mother, you promised me that I would be the next Countess of Everton!” Tabitha stomped her foot like a five-year-old spoiled brat. Her lady’s maid was having noticeable difficulty undoing all the buttons on her expensive ball gown because Tabitha refused to stand still. Tabitha chose to redirect her anger at an easy target. “Why is it so hard to find competent help? I have been standing here for over ten minutes and my gown is still on.”
“Have I ever broken a promise to you before? I swear you will be the next Countess of Everton if it is the last thing I do,” Cynthia said with fierce intensity.
Cynthia swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Tabitha was unaware of just how important it was that she marry Lord Everton. The Applewoods were accustomed to a lavish lifestyle. Purchasing the finest clothes and riding in the most expensive carriages had finally caught up with them. Cynthia was well aware of Marcus’s enormous wealth and she was counting on a match between them to satisfy their enormous debts. “That damn governess is causing all the trouble. He is too distracted to notice anyone else.”
Tabitha pouted her lips. “What does a preoccupation with a mere governess have to do with me? A man of his station would never consider marrying a lowly governess. Besides, I am just as beautiful as that little minion.”
“You are twice as beautiful as Miss Jenner, but that is not my point. Lord Everton has never been known for his conventional ways. In a moment of weakness, he may just consider taking someone of a lower class to be his bride.”
Cynthia could swear she had met Miss Jenner previously. She had searched her memory all day but found no answer. She could sense that Abigail was lying when she had asked if they had met before. “I know that girl is hiding something, but I don’t know what it is.”
“Well a hunch doesn’t really help me, Mother, does it? I expect you to get to the bottom of this tedious situation and dig up any skeletons in Miss Jenner’s closet. I want her completely out of the picture. Do I make myself clear?” Tabitha demanded.
“Yes, Tabitha. Just let me think for a minute so I can formulate a plan.”
Tabitha stepped out of her gown and the maid named Mary swiftly removed her undergarments. Then Mary placed a fresh linen nightgown over Tabitha’s head and she pulled her arms through. “That is all for now, Mary. I must say that I have been very disappointed with your service lately.” The maid looked petrified. “A hundred other girls would kill to have this position. If I do not see an improvement in your work ethic soon, I will have to let you go.” Mary nodded vigorously with the fear of someone that could be turned out on the treacherous streets of London. Tabitha appeared to get a cheap thrill out of taunting the poor girl. “Good. I am glad we see eye to eye on the matter. Now please leave us, my mother and I have some private matters to discuss.” Mary scurried out of the room with her head bowed.
Cynthia paced the room, searching for a solution. She smiled when she found one. “Do you remember the private investigator we hired to find the person who stole your Emerald brooch?” Cynthia walked over to Tabitha’s jewelry box and pulled out the topic of their discussion. The pristine green gems glittered in the candlelight. “He worked with lightning speed and the brooch was practically back in our possession before we could blink an eye. I am sure if there are any skeletons in Miss Jenner’s closet that he would be the man to find them.”
Tabitha’s anger was mollified for now. “Yes, Mr. Liam Stone. Who could forget a man that handsome?” Tabitha let out a yawn and then climbed into bed. “We will hire him in the morning. Good thinking, Mother.”
Cynthia was pleased with herself. “Darling, everything is going to be marvelous, you’ll see. We will be shopping for your wedding gown soon enough.”
Chapter 9
Abigail returned to her room after putting Olivia to bed. She opened her window and looked out at the dark London sky. The fresh night air felt cool against her skin.
Abigail sighed because she was torn between emotions. She would never have thought that she could feel happiness and sadness at the same time.
From across the street, Abigail viewed a stylish man and woman leaving their townhouse and getting into their carriage. She presumed that they were a married couple, about to enjoy their evening. Maybe they were going to a ball or the opera. Abigail could hear them both laughing as they rode past. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she could erase the past and start over again. Salty tears that she could taste started to roll down her face. She was lonely, desperately lonely.
Lord Everton had awakened feelings in her she had never known existed. He probably did not give their conversation a second thought, but it was all Abigail could think about. Clayton was so good at making her feel so insignificant, as if nothing she would ever do in her life would matter to anyone. Marcus was the exact opposite of Clayton. He made her feel smart and seemed to respect her opinions. He probably would never know how good it felt to hear his supportive words. Most men would have laughed at her aspirations. Instead he took her dream seriously, and for that reason alone she wanted him with all her being.
Abigail knew she was being irrational. Lord Everton was out of her reach for so many reasons. Some lucky woman with good social standing and without a dark, secretive past would become his bride. With that thought, Abigail felt a gnawing jealously form deep in her belly, but quickly pushed aside those unsavory emotions.
Was there any real harm in fantasizing about Lord Everton? Abigail pictured Marcus eating ices and laughing with her and Olivia. The flower girl’s slip of tongue had allowed her to indulge the fantasy of being Marcus’s wife. She couldn’t envision anything more splendid than being Lady Everton.
Stop this foolishness at once! After all, Lord Everton was likely spending his evening courting and dancing with Tabitha Applewood, while she was moping around like a schoolgirl smitten with her teacher. An image of Marcus dancing with Lady Tabitha popped into her head and she suddenly became sick to her stomach.
Abigail was quite grateful that she hadn’t already undressed for the evening because needed to prepare something that would soothe her dyspepsia. Ginger tea, ginger tea would do the trick.
She heard noises coming from the kitchen as she walked down the stairs. Abigail was delighted to see Grumman, two footmen and the head housekeeper, Mrs. O’Brien, playing a lively game
of whist. She could use some jolly company.
Mrs. O’Brien was the first one to notice her. She was a pudgy woman with a contagious smile, silver hair and the warmest brown eyes Abigail had ever seen.
“Miss Jenner, you look a little bit pale. Can I fix you something?” Mrs. O’Brien asked with genuine concern. “A sweet may help to fatten you up.”
“Please do not go to any trouble. I am just going to fix myself some tea. Pretend I am not even here,” Abigail answered. She filled up a kettle with water and placed some of her homemade crystallized ginger on the table.
“Pretend you are not here,” Grumman repeated. “We would not hear of it.” Grumman glanced at his cards. “Besides, maybe you could help me with my game. I am having dreadful luck tonight.”
Abigail already felt better. A little companionship was all she needed to take her mind off Lord Everton. “Well, I’ve always had a weakness for cards.” She sat next to Grumman as Mrs. O’Brien cut her a big piece of apple tart. Abigail grimaced when she took a glance at Grumman’s cards. “Oh, dear. The only way I can help you is if I teach you to cheat.”
The cheerful group erupted in laughter. It felt good to be included in the merriment. Abigail took a deep breath. She could not change her feelings for Marcus, but she could stop from wallowing in her sorrow. Abigail spent the evening sipping tea and learning about her card game opponents. She was surprised to learn that Mrs. O’Brien had six children, all boys, and her love for them seemed to shine in her eyes.
Abigail asked her if she had ever wanted a girl and discovered that she had given birth to two stillborn baby girls. Grumman had been married for nearly twenty years, but lost his beloved wife to consumption. However, he felt lucky because he was the proud father of three girls and an even prouder grandfather of nine.
Abigail was awed and inspired by how well they had weathered such tragedy. They both seemed so grateful for the good things in their lives and chose not to focus on the bad. She knew that Clayton could still learn of her deception, so she refused to let herself become depressed over Marcus. Abigail was resolute to simply enjoy her life again. She vowed to never allow her horrid past to take away from her current state. Besides, there were so many wonderful things to experience in London that she shouldn’t allow herself a moment of unhappiness.
Positive thoughts were swirling in her head when Lord Everton unexpectedly appeared before them. He was devastatingly handsome in his black evening attire. Marcus ignored everyone else and just chose to stare directly at her.
Abigail watched each member of the group give each other a knowing wink, bid good night and disperse in record time. She realized gossip must travel fast in the household and perhaps someone had seen the interlude that had occurred in the garden. Normally Abigail would have been concerned over her reputation, but her new outlook on life was preventing those feelings.
She rose from her chair and met Marcus’s inquisitive stare with a combination of contentment and fearlessness. “It appears you have a knack for breaking up a party.” Abigail walked towards Marcus. “I hope you enjoyed your evening, my lord. The hour appears to be late and I must return to my chambers.”
“Please, forgive my curiosity, but I did not expect you to still be awake,” Marcus stated as he took her arm and led her upstairs.
The electricity between them was undeniable. Abigail tried to ignore how good it felt to be near him. She could feel Marcus’s breath on her neck. He smelled wonderful, like a potent combination of cognac and leather. “It seems I have a mild case of insomnia. Ever since I was a little girl, whenever something was distressing me, I could not fall asleep.” Abigail silently cursed herself. She never meant to tell him that she was upset.
Marcus halted in front of his study after hearing her admission. Abigail sensed he was feeling some trepidation, but he led her into his private office anyway. She deliberately made sure the door remained open behind them. She knew very well she was walking straight into the Lion’s den but ignored her conscience’s shouted warnings. Abigail told herself she just wanted to feel his lips on hers again and then she would be satisfied. Yet she knew she couldn’t afford to have any unseemly behavior going on behind closed doors. What would the other servants think of her?
“Have you ever tried brandy?” Marcus sat her down at his desk chair and poured the amber liquid into two snifters. “It has always worked for me.”
Abigail’s spine tingled. She chose to ignore how outlandish it was for a governess to be sharing spirits with the master of the house, or how strange it felt to sit where he spent most of his private time. Her eyes skimmed the ledgers and contracts that were on his desk. She smiled to herself. Lord Everton had excellent penmanship. “Some lavender chamomile tea would also do the trick and not leave you with any ill effects. Quite frankly, I cannot imagine you having trouble falling asleep, my lord. You do not seem like someone who lets their troubles consume them.”
Marcus handed Abigail her glass and sat down on the settee. He loosened his cravat and put his booted feet on the oak table. “Generally I don’t, but we were not discussing me. And please call me Marcus. I think we are a little past such formality. Don’t you agree?” He inhaled the sweet smell of the brandy, took a large sip and sighed.
Abigail noticed the weariness of his action. He didn’t seem to be in a happy mood, and she wanted to soothe whatever it was that was bothering him. Her palms itched to massage his neck and to ease some of his tension. “I thought you wanted us to remain formal in light of what happened yesterday. But if you have changed your mind, may I ask what seems to be upsetting you?” Abigail tasted the brandy. It was very strong, but she needed something to settle her nerves. “It appears as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
∞
There were a dozen reasons why he should have let Abigail retire for the evening. On the carriage ride home, he had made the firm decision to stay as far away from Abigail Jenner as possible. Then he heard her musical laughter coming from the kitchen and all his good sense went out the window.
Marcus was mentally kicking himself for luring her into his office. Why couldn’t he control his lust for this woman? Especially since he was so great at controlling every other aspect of his life.
Abigail looked delectable tonight. During the day she styled her hair in a tight bun, but now the glossy mass fell down her back and shined like onyx. Abigail’s simple pale blue evening gown emphasized her full bosom and tiny waist. She radiated sexuality and yet at the same time maintained an aura of innocence. He could not remember the last time he wanted a woman in bed as much as he wanted Abigail.
Marcus felt his groin fill with heat. His heart pumped faster as he recalled the short moment of passion they had shared. The memory of her soft skin and her shapely thighs made it difficult to concentrate. He knew she was asking him a question, but his mind was too full of lust to hear it.
“Are you alright, my lord?” Abigail asked with concern when he did not respond to her first inquiry regarding his mood. “You seem a million miles away.”
It took all his will to focus on her words and not her delectable body. Control yourself goddamnit! You are a gentleman. “I am very much in the present, Abigail,” Marcus responded as he let out a sardonic laugh. “My mind should be focused on the past and the debt I owe to my brother, but instead my selfish nature is overriding my responsibilities.”
Abigail’s brow furrowed with confusion and compassion. “Marcus, don’t you think you are being rather hard on yourself? You seem so giving towards Olivia. I am sure your brother would be pleased by how well you are caring for his daughter. I have witnessed nothing in your character that would categorize you as selfish.”
Maybe it was the use of his name that ignited his mounting desire, or perhaps it was the admiration he saw in her eyes that made his control snap. He slowly rose to his feet and made his way to Abigail.
Marcus picked her up as if she was as light as a feather and placed her on the edge of t
he desk. He pulled her towards him and lifted her hips so they wrapped around his waist. He knew she could feel his stiff arousal. “I am about to change your mind,” Marcus retorted in a husky voice. He looked directly into her dazed eyes. “I am through denying myself. I want you and I want you now.”
Abigail trembled in his arms. Marcus knew he was being shockingly forward, but the last thing he wanted was to scare her. He prayed for some control over his unreasonable desire.
“I must admit I have thought about kissing you again,” Abigail whispered, unable to catch her breath. “I will not stop you.”
Marcus wanted more than just a kiss, but he would settle for what he could get. He captured her lips in a hungry kiss. She smelled liked lilac and tasted like honey. Marcus gently teased her with his tongue, but the moment Abigail let out a soft moan he lost what little good intention he had left. Marcus wanted to take everything she had to offer and give them both the desperate release they needed. Any pang of guilt was lost in the heat of the moment.
Abigail responded to his ardor by tightening her legs around him and flattened her palms against his chest. His lips trailed down her neck until he reached the tops of her ample, heaving bosom. His hand delved into her bodice and Marcus caressed the velvety flesh. Impatiently, he tugged at the sleeves of the gown until both of her breasts were exposed. His eyes feasted on the lovely site.
“You are the most exquisite creature I have ever seen.” His mouth took in one of the deep pink buds and began to suckle the taut peak. Abigail’s body quivered.
Marcus reached underneath her full skirts and located the opening to her pantaloons. Abigail gasped at the intimacy. “I made a mistake. I thought I could handle this, but I was mistaken. Please, my lord, we must stop. This can’t be right.”
