His other hand now slid into Amy’s hair and he cupped the back of her neck. She shivered at his heated touch.
“Just remember that it was you who suggested we get to know one another on a sexually exploratory level before we share a bed. Because, my dearest Diana, you have no idea the things that I can do with my teeth, tongue, and fingers,” he said.
She nodded.
“So, when can we meet?” he asked.
She sighed with relief. This was one part of the plan that she had well sorted and knew by heart. “Tomorrow at five o’clock in Hyde Park, just inside Grosvenor Gate. It’s away from where everyone else will be promenading at that time, and therefore less crowded. I shall be waiting inside a black coach with a piece of red ribbon tied to the door handle.”
Hyde Park was a public place, so she was still technically operating within the rules. Colin couldn’t say that she was flouting the instructions which had been set down by their father. Besides, Owen was her fiancé, so any dalliance she had with him, aside from consummating their relationship, was well within the stated boundaries.
He brushed a hot kiss on the side of her neck, then let his teeth scrape gently up to her earlobe where he stopped and nibbled.
“I cannot wait to get inside…your coach,” he whispered. She swallowed deep as the sound of his husky lust-filled voice thrilled her.
She should be ashamed that she was she permitting Owen to touch her like this at a crowded party. Wherever Colin was, he would not be happy watching his sister behave in such a scandalous manner.
At some point in the future she would no doubt have some explaining to do to the rest of London society. Whether she did that as Lady Morrison or Lady Amelia Perry remained to be seen.
All thoughts of future repercussions fled as Owen’s hot breath set her skin ablaze with heated need. She was held gently in the lion’s grip and she couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else but with him.
Owen gave her a glimpse of the wild beast when he growled in her ear and said, “Know this, Diana. By the time you invite me into your bed, you will be begging me to fuck you.”
Chapter Nineteen
“May I enquire as to how your evening went?” asked Colin, as the door of the carriage closed behind him. Amy was busy making herself comfortable in the seat opposite for the short ride back to Perry House. Her warm pashmina was wrapped around her shoulders keeping the chill at bay.
Amy raised both eyebrows and grinned at him. The evening had gone spectacularly well on the Owen Morrison front. He had exceeded her every expectation.
Owen was more handsome and enticing up close than she could have ever thought possible. When he spoke, the rough sexiness of his voice made her hot in her most secret of places. Even that one kiss on her neck had nearly brought her undone. And when he playfully bit her earlobe, she knew if he had asked, she would have stripped fully naked there and then for him.
“He is the consummate rake. Women were making ‘come hither’ eyes at him for most of the time we were talking. The man is like a stallion with a herd of mares in heat all around him,” she replied.
“Oh. From where I stood, the two of you looked to be getting on famously,” he replied. The unstated censure in his words did not go unnoticed
“Don’t get me wrong; things are going perfectly according to plan. Though when I told him that if he wanted to eventually have his way with me, he would have to be true to me, he was rather stunned. For a moment there, I wasn’t sure if he knew what the word ‘faithful’ meant. And I almost burst out laughing when he offered to take me outside for a ‘walk in the night garden,’” she said.
Colin screwed up his face in disgust. “He is true to his reputation; but of course, you didn’t promise him any liberties, did you? Just remember that you agreed to conduct this relationship in public places.”
“Of course. He did everything to get me to like him, which, from the way he behaved, is about all it normally takes for him to get into a woman’s bed. But when I told him that there would be conditions to our petit private liaison, I swear you could have knocked him down with a feather,” she replied.
An exasperated Colin threw his hands up in the air. “What happened? Please put me out of my misery! I have spent most of the night talking to one of Papa’s old school friends, which was not the most riveting of conversations. Then I had to stand on the other side of the room and watch while he pawed you.”
“Owen didn’t like what I demanded of him, but he clearly wants to bed me. So, he agreed. Lord Owen Morrison has promised to conduct a relationship with Diana Smith according to the terms she has and will set, the first one being that he has to be faithful.”
Early the following morning, Amy made her way to the stables at the back of Perry House and was examining the family coach when the stable master approached.
“Good morning, Lady Amelia. How may I help you?” he asked.
Amy turned from her study of the coach and pursed her lips. Her plan to use the coach for her private meetings with Owen was not going well. Her father was proud of his title and heritage, and the coach was decked out in the gold and green of the Perry colors. The family coat of arms was emblazoned on the doors as well as the front and rear. The pattern of a green wolf holding a golden sword was everywhere. There would be no disguising who it belonged to, and therefore, it would not serve her needs. Owen could not be given any sort of clue as to her true identity.
“I need to hire a coach, but I would rather that my brother not find out. I am planning a birthday surprise for him, so discretion is of the utmost importance. No one should know who is hiring the coach; nor should anyone know where it is going. Is this something you could assist me with?” she asked.
“Of course, Lady Amelia. There is a place on Oxford Street, near Tyburn Lane, which rents coaches by the hour. They are a reputable business and should be able to provide you with what you need,” he replied.
“Excellent. Thank you, and once again, I need you to keep this a secret. I would hate to ruin the surprise for my brother.” Amy went back into the house, and after rummaging through her chest of drawers, she pulled out a red silk scarf. She wrapped it around her hand, then sat on the bed and considered her next move.
She had been nervous enough meeting Owen in a crowded ballroom the previous evening, but the thought of actually being alone with him had her unwrapping the silk scarf and pulling it tight between her hands.
A thousand ‘what ifs’ rolled through her mind.
What if she did fall in love with him? What if she gave in to temptation and let him have his way fully with her? And, worst of all, after she had done both of those foolish things, what would he say once he discovered who she really was? Would he force her to marry him and then spend the rest of his life making her pay for her deception?
She shook her head. “This is your plan. Stick to it and all will be right.”
She would have to trust in Owen. Trust that he would not be able to resist his wicked ways. From the amount of sly looks he had received from various women at the party after the Noble Lords’ performance, she was confident that he would give in to his base nature and betray her. It was only a matter of time before Owen broke his vow of fidelity.
A man could not fight his true self.
And while that may eventually see her nursing a broken heart, she at least wouldn’t have to go through with marrying the blackguard.
Chapter Twenty
The morning was not going well for Owen. Kendal had banged on his bedroom door at the ungodly hour of ten o’clock and demanded that he dress and meet him downstairs. His grumbled reply that it was not a day for an early morning jaunt in Hyde Park had been ignored. The next thing Owen knew, his valet was standing by his bedside, towel, and cutthroat razor in hand, asking what color vest he planned to wear for the day.
Now, an hour later, Owen found himself shaved, dressed, and seated at the table in the breakfast room. His second cup of strong coffee was yet to kick in and br
ighten his mood.
Kendal, the cheeky bugger, was seated at the head of the table in Reid’s normal place. Owen had taken the seat to his right, Kendal’s usual spot. Opposite him was the hungover remains of Callum. Callum’s bloodshot eyes were a window to what could only be a world of pain.
Owen cringed when he peered closer. He did not envy his friend. “You look terrible this morning—worse than normal. May I suggest that you consider having a day or two without the company of gin? I am sure your liver would thank you.”
Callum shrugged. “I prefer a life of being numb. Once this meeting is over, I plan to start drinking again. Then I will feel better.”
Kendal rolled his eyes. “No sense, no pain. That is not the way to live. Keep this up, Callum, and you are looking at an early grave. I can’t understand why you are so intent on doing harm to yourself.”
“As you say, the only person I am hurting is me. So, please give over on the temperance lecture and leave me alone,” replied Callum.
Callum was in a particularly odd mood, even for him. Owen had noted that there had been signs over the past few days that something was seriously amiss, but Owen wasn’t keen to raise it. Callum was the sort of man you didn’t push. You left him alone and when he was good and ready to talk, he would. These days it was a rare occurrence for him to want to talk to anyone.
Since their return from the battle in Belgium, there had been more than one occasion when Reid, Owen and Kendal had sat Callum down and tried to get him to talk about what had happened to him at Waterloo.
Owen had his own ideas about what Callum had seen that fateful day and how it had affected him. They had all been in the thick of the battle, with the Royal Dragoons suffering a major loss of men. Owen, too, had his own memories of blood, death, and mayhem.
He didn’t agree with Callum’s opinion that he was only hurting himself. While it was all too tempting to find oblivious peace in the bottom of a bottle, there were real-world consequences for other people to his doing so. Only a fool could fail to see the pain in Lady Eliza’s eyes every time she had to order the household staff to carry Callum up to his bedroom.
“So, why are we here, Kendal? Why did you drag me from my bed? We don’t have rehearsals until later today, and I could have done with the extra sleep,” grumbled Owen.
The truth was he had sat up late into the night trying to put a finger on the conundrum that was Diana Smith. She was the first woman he had met who did not immediately succumb to his charms. She hadn’t instantly offered to take him to her bed. He was certain that had never happened before. And her demand for him to be faithful to her was still something he had not quite gotten his head around.
I can’t believe I actually agreed to what she asked. There must have been something in the wine.
“Yes, why are we here?” added Callum.
Kendal spread his arms wide and leaned forward over the table. “We are here because our dear friend and host, Reid, is up to something, and we need to get to the bottom of it. Every morning when I come into the breakfast room, he is not here. He arrives back in the house just after ten. And I want to know why.”
Callum lifted his head and looked at the clock on the wall. Owen followed his gaze; it was eleven o’clock.
He was about to make mention of that pertinent fact when Reid suddenly stepped through the door. Kendal immediately shifted in his seat and sat back.
“Who is she?” he asked.
Reid frowned at him. “Who is who?”
Kendal gave a knowing smile. “The woman you have been sneaking out to spend every night with, that’s who. You didn’t think we wouldn’t notice you wandering back in the front door every morning just after the hour of ten, did you?”
“It is eleven o’clock,” said Callum, stating the bloody obvious.
“I have errands to run in the morning. I am back later than usual today because it has been raining all morning and the crush of traffic in central London is a nightmare. You would all know that if you had bothered to set foot outside the house rather than wasting your time trying to make up stories about what I am up to each day,” replied Reid, taking a seat at the table.
Callum clapped, and Owen saw a glint of mischief in his bloodshot eyes. “I know. It’s the daughter of the chap Kendal has in each day to tune the piano, isn’t it? What was her name? Mercy. You have been out giving Mercy a good going over with your cock. You’re a sneaky bastard.”
Kendal violently pushed back his chair and rose from the table. He marched around to Callum and towered over him. “Take it back,” said Kendal, low and threatening.
Callum lifted an eyebrow, self-satisfied amusement written all over his face “Don’t be ridiculous. She is a piano tuner’s daughter. Those sorts of girls are always up for bed sport.”
Owen looked across at Reid. If he was messing about with Mercy Wood, then it would explain why Reid had not been going home with any other women since the Noble Lords had begun playing as a group. From the barely controlled fury that was apparent in Kendal’s stance, Owen prayed he was wrong. If Reid had been getting a leg over with Mercy, Kendal was going to beat him to a bloody pulp.
Reid shot to his feet. “I have been having singing lessons.”
Silence.
Deathly silence hung in the air. Reid quietly sat back down.
“Why?” asked Owen, when the shock of Reid’s revelation finally began to wear off.
As soon as he had asked the question, Owen set to silently chiding himself. The answer, of course, was obvious. Reid felt inadequate about his singing abilities and had decided to do something to improve them.
This is all my fault.
“Why am I taking singing lessons? I would have thought that was obvious. I need to be better,” replied Reid.
Kendal’s shoulders dropped in clear relief. Reid taking singing lessons was not important; the fact that Reid had not been messing with Mercy was all that mattered to him. Kendal, you are sailing into dangerous waters if you think to toy with that girl. Callum is right; she is a piano tuner’s daughter. You need to leave her the hell alone.
When Callum chuckled and looked like he was about to bait Kendal further, Owen decided enough was enough. Things were getting out of hand. They were wasting time on discussing a tradesman’s daughter when they should be pressing Reid for more information about his secret singing lessons.
“Enough of that, Callum; leave Kendal the fuck alone. If you keep teasing him, you will need more than a bottle of gin to dull your pain,” said Owen. Owen had been Reid’s second-in-command in the army and even in civilian life, he was ready to pull rank. Callum and Kendal exchanged one last dirty look before Kendal slunk back to resume his seat at the head of the table.
It’s like dealing with naughty children at times. At least in the army I could have had the pair of you flogged.
He turned to Reid, determined to deal with the more pressing matter at hand.
“So, Reid, what have you learned from your singing teacher? Does he think he can do something to improve you?” asked Owen.
Owen sought Reid out a short while later. Kendal and Callum had resumed their argument over Mercy, and he had given up trying to explain to Kendal that Callum was simply baiting him. Kendal, in turn, did not seem to be getting the message that he was the only member of the Noble Lords with any real interest in the young woman.
Owen knocked on the door of Reid’s study and after being invited in, he closed the door behind him.
“You are one for big surprises this morning. It was enough of a shock to hear you have been having singing lessons, but you really had our attention when you told us that you were considering changing from being a baritone and becoming a tenor,” he said.
A tinge of guilt pricked Owen. If he hadn’t excluded Reid at the outset from the role of singer, then perhaps Reid wouldn’t have felt the need to go and get lessons—and his fellow Noble Lord wouldn’t be toying with the harebrained idea of changing his singing pitch.
“Well, that was my singing teacher’s opinion, and I hold it in high regard,” replied Reid.
“It won’t be easy. It’s a bit like suddenly deciding that you want to play the cello when you have been playing the violin all your life. In fact, I would suggest it is a bigger task,” offered Owen.
Reid put his pen back into the inkwell and glared at Owen over the pile of papers on his desk. “Considering you didn’t think I was good enough to even be considered as the Noble Lords’ singer, I would have thought you would be the one person who would support my decision.”
Owen nodded; Reid had a valid point. It would be unfair of him to say that Reid was a merely a passable baritone, but not back him when he sought to improve his singing. He couldn’t have it both ways. “You have my support. But you need to be ready before you attempt to sing as a tenor in public. We have made solid inroads against the Italians over the first couple of our performances; I would hate to see us make fools of ourselves just because your singing teacher says you should be a tenor.”
In managing to steal Diana away from Antonio, Owen had already struck a solid blow on behalf of the Noble Lords. He secretly feared that if Reid changed the way he sung and made a mess of it, then the Noble Lords would be publicly embarrassed. That sort of disaster could potentially scuttle his plans to lure Diana into his bed. It would be more than a touch humiliating to be cast aside by her and then watch as she took up with one of the Italians.
Reid’s hand rested on top of the pile of papers. His fingers slowly closed into a tight fist.
“It pains me to think that you would even consider me capable of doing such a thing. There is not a hope in hell that I would do anything stupid like suddenly deciding to perform as a tenor without discussing it with the rest of the group. That would be madness.”
Owen nodded, then got to his feet. He wasn’t going to respond to Reid’s declaration. His friend was in the main a sensible man, but their time in the army had shown that Reid was capable of the odd rush of blood to his head.
Owen Page 10
