by Tamara Gill
Whatever love was.
A vision in gold came into view, laughing at something her friend was saying before she curtsied to their hosts and entered the ballroom. His heart did a little tumble in his chest as he took her in, relishing every move, every gesture she made while unaware of his notice.
Taking a sip of brandy, he ignored the tittering about him over his latest scandal. Well, two scandals in fact, but with his reputation, they were nothing new. If the ton actually knew whom the lady was he was supposed to have ruined, it would be different. How delicious they would find such information. Not that they would care that he hadn’t ruined her at all…although he couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed his mind numerous times during their few days together.
Never had he felt such acute disappointment as he had the morning he’d woken up and found she’d left the house party. The whole day had turned for the worse from that point on. He’d ordered his manservant to pack his things, and by luncheon he was on the road heading back to his country estate.
He had stayed there for a few days, catching up with his steward and ensuring everything was in order before he headed back to London to see out the end of the Season. Not to mention securing Miss Fox and her thirty thousand pounds before the end of the month.
Now the vixen named Lizzie Doherty glided straight past him without so much as a by-your-leave, and his annoyance doubled.
Not only at her, but himself. He should be glad she wasn’t demanding anything of him, allowing him to court Miss Fox and solve all his financial woes. That she did not seek him out left him contemplating the fact that she’d never known the identity of the gentleman who’d kissed her senseless at Lady X’s party.
The idea that Lizzie would kiss any man in such a way made his blood run cold. His resolve to remain distant from her, leave her to her own devices, warred with his desire to speak to her again. To be near her and hear her laugh. Her cousin, Lord Leighton, was one of his closest friends, so it wasn’t entirely foreign for them to be thrown together at a ball. The ton wouldn’t read anything more into his being polite to his friend’s cousin.
Hugo watched her. She was so very pretty and it was a pleasure to see her once more without a mask. Her laugh caused warmth to course through his blood, and her vibrant eyes simply lit up a room. But she wasn’t for him. He needed to marry an heiress with a substantial dowry, and he had to do it soon.
Unfortunately, Lizzie Doherty was a poor relation to Earl Leighton, and because of it, each year she did not find a husband left the possibility of her gaining one decreased. Hugo understood why his father had stipulated such a clause in the will. His father knew of his lifestyle, endless lovers, and spending of funds on the things he valued–horses, gambling, and trips abroad. But now his vices would stop him from pursuing the woman whom he was certain suited him most in this society. Now his own foolhardy past meant Lizzie Doherty was lost to him and he’d have to marry the cold, aloof Miss Fox.
And he would marry her, because that was all that was open for him, what he had to do to secure his tenant farmers, his employees across his many estates. Even so, the slow burn that grew as he watched Lizzie wouldn’t abate. It hadn’t dimmed in the few days since he’d seen her last, and something told him it would not, no matter how much time passed. She’d ignited a fire in his blood that he didn’t want to step away from. But how could he have her when taking her as his wife would mean losing everything?
He pushed the problem away to think about another day.
It was a selfish, ruinous, bastard thing to do, but he wanted another taste. He wanted her in his bed, writhing in pleasure. He wanted to kiss every inch of her silky white skin. Suckle her nipples until they coiled into hard little peaks that begged to be licked. Hear her moan his name as she found pleasure on his cock.
He pushed away from the wall and followed her toward the end of the room. She stood with her back to him, gentlemen and women friends surrounding her, and their conversation carried to him as he came closer. Discussions over the latest on-dit.
Him.
He grinned as the conversation halted–all but Lizzie’s, that was. Unable to deny himself the feel of her again, he slid his finger along her spine as he came to stand beside her, his own body hiding his inappropriate touch.
“Good evening,” he said, catching Lizzie’s startled eyes with his own. “You look very beautiful tonight, Miss Doherty.” He bowed, clasping her hand and kissing it.
A deep blush bloomed across her cheeks, and he stood back, inwardly laughing that she could kiss him with such passion only a week before, touch and talk to him openly, but feel embarrassment now. That was if she’d even been aware of who he was at the house party.
But something in her manner right now told him she knew he’d been the one with her in the country, and that he knew in return who the vixen was that tortured him with the memory.
Others about them greeted him while some of the ladies present tittered and pulled out their fans, waving them in front of their faces. He turned toward his quarry and gestured to the dance floor. “I believe the next dance is to be a waltz, Miss Doherty. Will you do me the honor?”
She cast a nervous glance at her friend Sally, before nodding, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Thank you, yes.”
Hugo led her onto the floor as the previous dance ended. The tremble in her hand gave away her nervousness, and he pulled her closer than he ought. The few days apart had been as long as he’d ever remembered time being. So now, having her in his arms, about to dance a waltz, where they could talk…left him discombobulated to say the least.
Somehow the little wallflower looking up at him with trepidation had captivated his soul.
“Do you like to dance, Miss Doherty?”
She nodded. “I do, yes, when I’m asked.” The dance started, and they glided their way about the room. The ball was a crush, but even with the multitude of guests, Hugo didn’t miss the curious stares that were being thrown in their direction.
“I do not believe there is a man present who wouldn’t wish to dance with you.”
She arched one brow, her gaze weary. “You have never asked me before. One might wonder why you would do so now?”
He started and almost lost his footing. She was right too, much to his annoyance. He’d not danced with her before, even though they were often in each other’s company. “It’s a lapse that I intend to remedy from tonight onward.”
“Really,” she said, looking over his shoulder. “And why is that?”
He slid his hand a little further down her back, settling it just above her buttocks. He met her gaze, wanting to lose himself in the deep blue depths of her eyes. “Because after what you did with me under the stairs at Lady X’s house party, there is little else I think about, other than being with you. Near you. Kissing you until we’re unable to stand even that.”
Lizzie gasped and stumbled. Hugo hoisted her back into the correct position and continued the waltz. “I see the disguise I was made to wear didn’t work with you.” She sounded annoyed and he chuckled.
“While I do believe others were unaware of your true self, I was not fooled, no. But then again, I have known you for some time and would recognize your delectable figure anywhere, I should imagine. And your hair, which is a shade not often seen in the ton.”
“You, sir, are being very forward, and I must admit, rude. You shouldn’t speak about me in such a manner.”
He scoffed. “Why should I not? What I say is the truth.” He pulled her into a tight turn. The memory of having her up hard against the wall, her lithe body full against his, undulating in its own course to gain pleasure, bombarded his mind. He groaned at the thought.
“Are you unwell, my lord?”
“Hugo, please. And no, I’m not unwell, but that does not mean that I’m not in pain.” Excruciating pain, and thankfully the waltz still had some music movements to go to save his reputation. The last thing anyone here present needed to see was his engorged cock standing
to attention.
“Oh really, and what kind of pain are you in, Hugo?” she accentuated his name, mocking it slightly, and the devil sat on his shoulder.
“Do you really wish to know, Lizzie?” he asked, accentuating her name in turn. She didn’t answer, merely raised her brow.
“Very well, Miss Doherty, I shall tell you. I’m in pain, you see,” he whispered, “because from the moment you kissed me, for the handful of days we’ve been separated, you, my dear, have been the single object of my thoughts. I deliberate on you constantly, longing for a kiss as sweet and thrilling as the last, and I have no shame in admitting that I want you.” He leaned closer still to ensure privacy. “I want you in my bed.”
He was going to hell for saying such things. Wanting a woman he could not have, not unless she miraculously became an heiress or his uncle refused his mother’s money. Neither were a possibility and he shouldn’t be here, giving her hope, but he also had to know if what they shared was real, not a figment of his imagination. Was Lizzie Doherty the first woman he actually cared about?
Lizzie shut her mouth with a snap. He wanted her in his bed! Oh, how scandalous and so very tempting. She grinned up at him, having not thought he’d be so honest with her, but loving the fact that he was. “You wish to ruin me, my lord?”
“Hugo. And yes, thoroughly.”
His lordship pulled her into a turn before they headed back down the long ballroom floor. For the last several days, being apart from Hugo had been torturous for her as well. Her body seemed no longer her own, and now in his arms, warmth and throbbing expectation hummed through her blood, and other places as well.
But to walk down this path meant ruination, especially as he’d made no promises to her. Had not offered for her hand in marriage. She would be best to keep him at a distance, see if his desire for her led to more, before allowing anything life altering to happen. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with him in the interim. A stolen kiss here and there never hurt anyone.
“After this dance, Hugo, go to the top of the staircase and turn right, then follow the corridor to the very end where you’ll come to a room on your left. Enter it and wait for me there.”
His eyes widened, and a little triumph blasted through her that she’d been the one to shock him this time.
“And what do you intend to do with me once we’re in this room?”
She ran her hand over his shoulder, halting it close to his nape. “Everything. I intend to do everything with you.”
As luck would have it, the dance came to an end, and, curtsying while Hugo bowed, Lizzie took her leave of him. She rejoined Sally, who was in a deep discussion about the terrible storm that had come through while she was attending a country house party, the very one that ensured Lizzie had arrived at the wrong location.
“Sally, I have a slight headache and I think I shall return home if you are in agreement. I’ll take the carriage and send it back for you for when you’re ready.”
Sally frowned, taking her hands. “Are you alright, my dear? Do you wish for me to attend you? I do not mind.”
Lizzie waved her friend’s concerns aside. “No, you stay and enjoy what’s left of the ball. It’s just a headache, and it will pass. I shall see you tomorrow.” She headed toward the entrance hall and had a footman collect her shawl before waiting for the carriage to arrive.
It wasn’t long before she was helped up into the equipage and they pulled away from the front of the house and were on their way. What happened next was all a blur, but before the carriage had gained too much speed the door swung wide and Hugo threw himself across the floor before her slippered feet.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, watching as he rolled over, sat up and slammed the carriage door closed. He was rumbled from his little escapade, and when the carriage slowed to stop Lizzie called out to the driver to carry on.
“You’re running away from me. Yet again.” He looked up at her from the floor, his hair askew along with his cravat, which drooped significantly, leaving his delicious neck visible.
“As much as I enjoyed our time at Lady X’s, Lord Wakely, I’m not going to be an easy conquest for you.” Despite the fact he was being absolutely adorable by chasing her down, barrelling into the carriage and scaring her half to death. He looked a little shocked by her declaration, and she laughed.
“Where’s the fun in an easy conquest? I do not mind chasing you about London if every now and then you throw me a little crumb. Say, a kiss every now and then.”
He came and sat beside her, and nerves skittered across her skin. He was so imposing, so worldly, and she was neither. Why on earth he was even in her carriage sitting beside her, she couldn’t fathom. The viscount was courting Miss Fox. Cunning and cold was what the ton termed the poor woman, even though she was in no way poor. Still, why did he want her?
“Why are you here, Hugo?” she asked, not wanting to be anyone’s toy, no matter how well they could distract her with a kiss. She would marry for love and nothing else, and as far as his lordship knew, she was penniless–not something men of their sphere wanted anything to do with. So why did he?
He studied her for a minute, the carriage rocking them gently, the flickering lights of the street lamps illuminating his seriousness every so often. Lizzie didn’t say another word, just waited for whatever his answer would be.
“I like you, more than I ever thought I would. Yes, we’ve known each other in passing due to your cousin, but I’ve never really seen you before. I feel that in the time we spent together, without society’s rules, my eyes were opened and…well, I see you now.”
“I will not sleep with you. I will never be another one of your conquests, no matter how much I may have enjoyed our time at Lady X’s estate.”
He took her hand, pulling her toward him. “When you kissed me, you seemed to have woken me from a dream. An endless cycle of nothings. When I’m near you I feel a sense of calm, but also madness. I knew that if I did not see you again, I would surely become insane.”
“You tease, my lord,” she said, pulling away. “I do not like games where I’m the playing piece.”
“I never tease, no matter what you may think of me or have heard. I always say the absolute truth.”
He frowned, and she wondered what he was thinking. If she wasn’t a game to him, what was she? Did he even look at her as a prospective bride or was he simply infatuated with her after their weekend at Lady X’s house party? Lizzie didn’t know the answer to her questions. Was she willing to place herself into a situation where she could be hurt? Not just her heart, but also her reputation. She’d always liked Lord Wakely, and should she allow him to remain close to her, could he possibly fall in love with her and offer marriage?
It was a risk, certainly, but meeting his dark blue-gray gaze, she already knew she would risk everything if it meant she could possibly have this man in her arms as her husband.
“There are rumors about town that you’re about to offer marriage to Miss Fox. Is it true?” She had to know, but when he sat back, his attention turning to the streets of London outside the carriage window, a rock of doubt wedged in her stomach.
“Society would have you believe I’m always courting some debutante or matron of the ton. But society can go hang, because it’s you I want to be close to. Let me, for the remainder of the Season, be with you as much as we can.”
Lizzie caught his eyes, willing herself to believe what he said was true, and yet a small part of her wondered at it. Even though she’d seen him at balls and parties with Miss Fox, dancing more than once with her, escorting her to plays and the opera with her parents. Everything pointed to an understanding, and yet, here he was, beseeching her to let him court her.
“I will not deny that I enjoy your company, and you may dance and speak to me at any of the balls or parties that we find ourselves at, but anything more than that, I must decline. If you prove yourself worthy, if what you say is the truth and you’re not courting Miss Fo
x, then by the end of the Season, we’ll know.”
A muscle worked at his temple and a deafening silence filled the carriage. Had she insulted him? Possibly, but right now she had to think of herself, and the fact that Lord Wakely was a rake could ruin her chances of ever finding a man who’d love her for who she was, not what she had. Not to mention her cousin would not bestow her dowry if she was a fallen woman. Two years and she could live however she liked. Wherever she wanted. To risk her future, whatever direction it moved in, even for a few delightful, very naughty kisses under a staircase was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Not yet at least.
He rapped on the roof and the carriage pulled to the side of the road. “I would never wish to do anything that would cause you harm. In light of what you said, we shall go on as before, friends who socialize. I will not ask any more than that from you even though right now”—he leaned in toward her—“I want more than anything to kiss you.”
He was so close that the whisper of his breath flittered across her lips. Without thought Lizzie dampened them and delighted in the fact his attention snapped to her mouth.
“You wish to kiss me?” she said, her words but a whisper, but even Lizzie herself could hear the desire echoing in her voice. Need pulsated between them, invisible and yet linking them like a piece of string. He was so dangerous to her plans. Men like the viscount only had liaisons, married for what they could gain for their pocketbook, not what they could gain for their heart. If she married, and that was a very big if, her marriage would be a love match, and nothing else would sway her. If not, she would die an old, rich spinster who had travelled the world and adopted as many cats as her porter could carry.
