To Vex a Viscount (Lords of London Book 4)

by Tamara Gill

  After helping her climb up, he gave her a small blanket to place over her legs, and they were soon heading out of London on the great north road. If only they continued on the road, they could travel all the way to Gretna Green.

  What a delightful adventure that would be.

  “Are you well, Lizzie?” he asked, throwing her a small smile.

  She reached up to hold onto her bonnet. “I am. Very well, thank you. I’m also very excited about our outing today. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “My pleasure,” he stated, meeting her eyes.

  “So, where are we going today? Is there a plan?” On the seat opposite them sat a basket, and she hoped that it held a picnic. How wonderful if he’d thought to do such a thing. She’d never had a picnic before with a gentleman.

  “We will drive a little ways, to let me see how my matching pair go under the guidance of another, and if we find a nice place to stop, we’ll have a picnic. I hope you’re not averse to eating outdoors.”

  Lizzie shook her head. “On the contrary, I love doing things like this.” She looked about for a time, before saying, “Are you looking forward to your uncle arriving? You said he was due any day.”

  He didn’t reply at first, but kept his attention on the scenery. Then he said, “In all truth, my uncle’s arrival isn’t a happy prospect. He’s here to ruin me, if I’m to be honest with you.”

  Lizzie gasped, having not expected that answer. Did he really mean what he said? His uncle was coming to ruin him? What did that even mean? “I don’t understand, my lord. Why would he wish to do that? Wasn’t he your mother’s only brother?”

  Lord Wakely sighed, rubbing his jaw, which Lizzie noticed had the slightest shadow of stubble. Her hand itched to feel it, to see if it would prickle against her palm, but she did not. First she wanted to know what was going on.

  “He is all that I have left of family, but it’s not his fault he wishes to ruin me.” His lordship paused for a moment, the line between his brow deep and furrowed. “My father, as you would remember, passed away just under twelve months ago. When alive, it was no secret within the ton that we disagreed on many things, one of which was my lifestyle. I wasn’t the best-behaved gentleman running around London.”

  He threw her a bemused glance, and Lizzie chuckled, having seen that herself. She’d also pined over Lord Wakely while he’d enjoyed his life to the fullest, often dreaming she was his quarry, to be flirted with and seduced. “I have heard of your antics.”

  He turned and grinned at her before looking back to the driver as the man maneuvered the carriage to the side of the road to allow a mail carriage to pass in the opposite direction. Their driver yelled out a salutation to the other driver and then pulled back into the centre of the road.

  “What I didn’t know was that my father would strike at me one final time, from the grave. He stipulated in his will that I am to marry within twelve months of his death, to an heiress who comes with a minimum of thirty thousand pounds. If I do not, the money my mother brought to the family upon her marriage will revert to her brother living in New York. And, as you can see,” his lordship said, gesturing to himself, “I have not married, and my time is almost up, hence my uncle’s imminent arrival.”

  Of all the stories that Lizzie had heard, she’d not expected this one. Lord Wakely would not be penniless unless he married an heiress, however he would find it hard to keep up his present lifestyle without selling off some of his property. Well, at least it explained why he’d been courting Miss Fox these past months, even if sporadically. And why he was reluctant with her, only too willing to remain her friend and nothing else. There would be many reliant on Lord Wakely for a living, not just the servants who worked in his homes, but also those who worked his lands. The loss of his mother’s money would be devastating for so many. Even so, Lizzie was an heiress, not a penniless miss. But Lord Wakely did not know her secret, so should he choose her in light of his current situation, it could only mean one thing. He cared for her. A great deal.

  “Why are we out driving together then, Lord Wakely? Shouldn’t you be with Miss Fox instead? She after all meets your father’s last wish.” Lizzie kept her eyes on the road, wondering what he’d say to her statement.

  “I ought to be, yes, but I’m not, and there’s one simple reason why that is so.”

  At that she couldn’t continue looking away. Gazing up, she met his gray orbs and lost herself in their depths. “And that is?”

  “I don’t want Miss Fox.”

  His words rocked through her and she clasped the seat to steady herself just as a large drop of rain fell and splashed on her cheek. The single drop was soon followed by a deluge. “Oh my God, Lord Wakely, it’s pouring.” Lizzie laughed as they were soon drenched, her perfectly coiffured hair now limp about her shoulders, her day gown of light blue muslin soaked and clinging to her like a second skin. The driver pulled up under some trees and Lord Wakely asked his groom to help him with the barouche’s collapsible hood. He cursed when the blasted thing wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s stuck,” he said, looking about for other shelter.

  Lizzie held her shawl over her head, but it too was soon soaked and of no use.

  “Over there,” he yelled through the rain. “I see a barn.” Lord Wakely turned to the driver and groom while opening the carriage door. “I’ll take Miss Doherty over to the barn to shelter from the storm.”

  “Right ye are, my lord,” the driver said, nodding slightly.

  The barn was a large wooden building with two double sliding doors at its front. Inside, stacks of hay lay about from last year’s crop. A few pigeons flew about as she entered, otherwise the space was free of animals.

  Lord Wakely joined her, taking off his coat and hanging it from a nail he found on the wall. “We’ll stay here until the rain has passed and then I’ll return you to town. Your mother will not be pleased you’re returning damp.” He slid the doors shut, cocooning them in the dry space.

  Lizzie laughed. “Damp? I’m drenched through.” She went up to where the hay was stacked and sat, pulling off her half boots and stockings to dry. “The storm must have been behind us. I never saw it coming.”

  “No,” he said, coming to sit beside her, taking the opportunity to pull his boots and stockings off as well. “Will you call me Hugo like you did before, when we’re in private? I’d much prefer it to my lord or Lord Wakely.”

  Chilled as she was, warmth ran across her skin at his request. “I would like that. You may call me Lizzie in return.”

  He reached up and pulled a piece of hay from her hair, throwing it away. Their gazes locked, and no matter how much she tried Lizzie couldn’t look away. Unlike the first time they kissed, the lead up to this one seemed like an excruciatingly slow dance.

  Hugo leaned down and, clasping her jaw, kissed her. His lips were soft, and although they were cold from the rain outside, with one touch any trace of chill fled. Lizzie kneeled, running her hands over his shoulders to clasp about his back. She kissed him back with all that she was, showing him with her touch that she was his match in every way.

  His kiss deepened, and Lizzie matched his desire. How she’d wanted to be with him like this again, how for night after night she’d lain awake with images of being in his arms, having his mouth hot and passionate against hers.

  Her skin heated, her cold damp clothes forgotten as his hands skimmed down her back. “Touch me,” she gasped through the kiss.

  He pulled her hard against him, and, still kissing, they flopped onto the hay. Hugo lay beside her, his hand running over her waist and down over her hip, sliding around to clasp her bottom.

  Lizzie gasped as he lifted her leg and laid it over his, placing him so very close to her aching core. Wanting to feel him, all of him, she shuffled closer and the hard line of his desire pressed against her abdomen, so solid and big that she couldn’t help but wonder how it all worked. Wanted to know with a desperation that matched her desire.

  He clasped he
r hand and took it down between them to lay it on himself, his dark hooded eyes watching her. The need coursing through her was addictive, and at that very moment Lizzie understood that Lord Wakely was for her. Only with him did she trust enough for such kisses, such touches. Never before had she reacted to any gentleman the way she reacted to him.

  “Touch me as well,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need.

  She did as he asked, taking his hard member into her hand through the fabric of his breeches and feeling its length. He pushed it against her hand, moaning against her lips as he kissed her with a ferocity that left her breathless. “Do you like that, my lord?”

  He growled, nipping her lip. “You can see that I do.”

  Heat pooled between her legs and following his lead she clasped his arm that gripped her leg and put it against her most private of places. A place that no one but him could touch. She ached with the need of him, to stroke and slide his hand, give her pleasure just as he had at Lady X’s house party.

  He gathered up her gown, pooling it against her stomach, and then without hesitation, without caution, laid his hand against her mons. Lizzie shut her eyes as unbearable pleasure ran through her. He stroked her flesh, teasing her with a tentative touch that wasn’t enough. She needed more, beyond anything she could ever understand.

  “Touch me like you did at the house party, Hugo.” She wrapped her hand about his member, squeezing it a little, and he gasped. “Make me feel what you did before.”

  “I want you. I want you so much,” he said, sliding his hand between her wet folds, circulating his thumb on a spot that made her blood turn to molten lava. She moaned, kissing him, increasing her own touch. She broke away to look down at his breeches, then, ripping at the buttons on his front falls, reached in and touched his flesh.

  His skin was so soft, like velvet, and he was hers. All hers. The smallest amount of liquid pooled at the tip of his phallus and she wiped it off with her thumb. His fingers undulated against her core and she moaned, wanting more. Her skin burned beneath her wet gown. Her breasts ached, her breathing shallow as he continued to tease her.

  “This isn’t enough,” he gasped, pushing her onto her back and coming to kneel between her legs. Lizzie licked her lips, wanting him with a need that frightened her. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she could lose him if he decided that money was more important than his feelings, and yet she could not push him away.

  “I’ll not ruin you. I promise. Just trust me.”

  Lizzie watched as he pushed his breeches down. His manhood jutted out, long and thick, and she swallowed. A part of her wanted to run, get away from such a sight, and yet another part of her wanted nothing more than to see what he would do with it.

  He came down over her, placing himself against her flesh, and then he slid, sending stars to form before her eyes. The little bead of moisture she’d felt before mixed with her own desire, teasing them both toward a climax she longed to feel again.

  How was such a thing so enjoyable? She spread her legs wide and, wrapping her arms about his shoulders, kissed him deeply. He moaned, and wanting more she pushed against him, undulating and seeking her gratification.

  “Oh yes, Hugo,” she gasped as spasms of pleasure thrummed through her core and throughout her body. With every push against her flesh another bout of fulfilment went through her and she moaned.

  His kiss turned scalding and Lizzie didn’t shy away from his frenzied state. She wanted him to be crazy for her, to want her as much as she’d always wanted him. He gasped, calling out her name as heat speared across her belly.

  They lay spent in the hay together for some time, their breathing laboured as they tried to regain their equilibrium. Hugo slumped beside her, and after a little time pulled out his handkerchief, wiping away his seed. He gathered her dress and settled it back over her legs.

  “It’s official, I now am a rake of the worst kind.”

  His voice held no amusement. Lizzie turned toward him, taking in his profile as he stared at the barn’s roof.

  “I don’t know about that. There was nothing bad about what we just did. If anything, it makes me want to do it again.” Her voice even to her own ears sounded sleepy and satisfied. And she was both, wanted nothing but to cuddle up next to him, breathe him in and sleep.

  He shut his eyes. “Please forgive me, Lizzie. I should never have done such a thing to you.”

  The thought of him doing it with anyone else irked her, and she pulled him over to look at her. “I’m not a child, Hugo. I may be inexperienced but I’m not such a naive fool not to know what we did was a normal and pleasurable thing a lot of couples do. Though I know we are not a couple, and I allowed you privileges that are ruinous in the eyes of society. You did not ruin me; there is no risk. So please don’t wreck what just happened between us because you think I’m upset or violated in some way, because I’m not.”

  “I know you’re not naive, but I do not want to hurt you.” He leaned over and kissed her. “I cannot promise you anything at the moment and therefore I should not have touched one hair on your body.”

  “And yet, I’m so very glad you did.” Lizzie smiled, clasping his jaw and running her hand over the prickly stubble. “You never did tell me what you’re going to do when your uncle arrives. Are you going to talk to him about the will?”

  “I am,” he said, taking her hand and kissing her palm with little pecks. “I will ask him to reconsider taking the funds and instead leave them in the estate, allowing me to therefore marry whomever I choose.”

  “Do you think he’ll agree?” And if he didn’t, what did that mean for her? With very few words she could relieve Hugo of all his troubles, especially as it looked as if he wanted her and not Miss Fox. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue that she was an heiress, that if her married her all his financial woes would be moot, but she did not.

  To tell Hugo her secret would be breaking a promise to Lord Leighton, her cousin and the man who had enabled her future to be so secure in the first place. He’d made her promise not to let anyone know of her change in fortunes. He wanted to ensure that should she marry, the man would be worthy and in love.

  But it was not only because of her cousin that Lizzie remained quiet. Her parents’ marriage had not been a happy one, often plagued by frequent arguments and unbidden loathing. If she married Lord Wakely after telling him of her inheritance, how would she ever really know he married her because he loved her and not because he simply desired her more than Miss Fox? His choice was not easy and she wished she could help him, but this was one decision he would have to make on his own.

  “That I can’t tell you, but by God I hope he does. I couldn’t stomach lo—”

  Losing you. He didn’t need to finish what he was saying for Lizzie to hear the unspoken words.

  It was not too much to ask, and if they were meant to be together, she had to be patient and wait, allow Lord Wakely to realize that a life without love was no life at all. One could not buy happiness, and as the author of Sense and Sensibility advised herself, happiness in a pocketbook should not outweigh that of the heart.

  Chapter 12

  Hugo sat on one side of the desk at J. Smith & Sons Solicitors, listening as his father’s final will and testament was read out loud to him again. This time in the presence of his uncle, his only remaining living relative. Not that the man cared for the sentiment–he’d been cold from the moment he arrived, and it didn’t bode well for Hugo’s strategy.

  In appearance, his uncle was the male version of his mother, and it made Hugo nostalgic for her. Not to mention she would be appalled that her husband had done this to their only child. After today, if his uncle did not refuse to take the inheritance, Hugo would have very little to live on, or to keep his three estates running. Did his father not think out his final blow? To be so reckless with the lives of their tenants and their servants was reprehensible.

  Hugo shook his head as the clause ordering him to marry an heiress was rea
d aloud. He should have married as soon as he’d heard the will almost a year ago. Had he done so he wouldn’t be sitting here today, on the brink of losing everything other than his title. His father might have stipulated for him to marry, but Hugo had wasted the past year with recklessness and endless enjoyment. This was as much his fault as anyone else’s.

  Mr. Thompson pulled off his pince-nez glasses and placed them on the mahogany table. “Now that you’ve heard the will and the stipulations, we may proceed.”

  Hugo’s uncle leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I’m sorry that your father has placed you in this position, Hugo, I really am. But your family across the Atlantic is also in dire need of cash. I thought that you would’ve married by now and my trip over here wouldn’t have been necessary, but I cannot deny that I’m happy you have not. I will be enforcing the clause and claiming the money Elizabeth was given as her dowry upon the marriage to your father.”

  The blow was like a quick uppercut to the nose. He fought not to cast up his accounts with the realization of what was about to happen. “Uncle, please. There are many who work for my estates, both as servants and tenant farmers, and their families. If you enable my father’s clause to stand, if you enforce it, my suffering will be nothing compared to theirs. They will lose everything.”

  His uncle snipped the end of his cigar off and lit it, taking great puffs of smoke. He shrugged. “And I’m sorry for them, but I must think of my family, and the people who work for me.”

  “Could you compromise?” Mr. Thompson suggested. “Receive only half the funds so Lord Wakely can continue to run the estates?”

  “No,” his uncle said, shaking his head. “I’m not willing to compromise. I’m sorry it has come to this, Hugo, but you’ve had twelve months. Your father wrote to me explaining what he’d done, and while it may not be fair, your lifestyle has been frivolous to say the least. A point proven yet again by the fact that you’ve had nearly a year to marry and void this clause and you’ve not done so. Have you even found a woman whom you’d like as your wife? Have you even been looking?”