‘There now, all done, we can get on.’
Russ gently led the mare from the shafts. A low whistle brought his own horse closer and Russ caught up the reins. He waited for a moment, observing the two animals, then gave a satisfied nod.
‘These two will walk together, I think, and without the carriage, we will be able to take the packhorse trail across the hill, that will save a good mile.’ He turned towards Molly. ‘If you will take my arm, I shall escort you home.’
Molly was surprised how shaky her legs were as she stood up. Dropping the reins, Russ reached out to grab her as she stumbled. She was already feeling foolish for her wicked thoughts and now she was mortified to display such weakness. She glanced up to see that he was smiling down at her and her cheeks grew painfully hot.
‘My dear Molly, you cannot walk all the way back to Compton Parva.’
All her good sense had disappeared. She was quite unequal to protesting at his form of address and could only watch in silence as he pulled the big hunter closer and jumped nimbly into the saddle.
‘Come along.’ He held out his hand. ‘Put your foot on my boot and I will pull you up.’
Worse and worse. She wanted to weep with vexation and her own feebleness. Instead she silently followed his instructions and moments later she was sitting across the saddle in front of him, almost cradled in his arms.
‘You are perfectly safe,’ he told her, his breath fluttering through her untidy curls and playing havoc with her already-disordered nerves. ‘I shall not let you fall.’
She kept her eyes lowered. She had no fear of slipping off the horse, but sitting across a gentleman’s lap, and in particular this gentleman’s lap, was not making it easy to relax. Then, when they began to move, she had no choice but to lean against Russ and allow her body to move with the big horse’s gait. She settled herself more comfortably and it was impossible not to rest her cheek against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of him, the wool of his coat, the well-laundered linen of his shirt and neckcloth, the spicy scent of citrus and musk that mingled with the fresh sweat on his skin. It was very male. Frightening and exciting. Intoxicating.
* * *
Two miles. Russ gazed up at the darkening sky, where the first stars were making their appearance. It was not long enough, even at this slow pace. He wanted to ride for ever through this twilight world with Molly in his arms, feeling her soft body resting against him, trusting him to protect her. That last thought made him feel like a giant, the hero from some Greek myth or perhaps a chivalrous knight from the pages of a medieval romance.
He smiled but without humour. There was nothing noble about his life. He had followed a selfish, hedonistic existence, careless of anyone or anything. Even now, when he should have been thinking only of escorting Molly to the safety of her home, he felt the temptation growing, the desire to make love to her, to awaken the passion he knew lay just beneath the surface. But it must not be. She was a respectable pillar of this community and a liaison with him would destroy everything she had worked for.
He fought against the attraction, forcing aside his desires while he silently raged against the injustice of it all. However, he could not suppress a low growl of frustration and she stirred, one dainty hand coming up to rest against his chest.
‘Did you speak, sir?’
‘We shall not be back before dark,’ he replied, prevaricating.
‘It is of little consequence. In a situation such as this I think my reputation will survive.’
‘It is not your reputation that concerns me.’
‘N-no?’ Her hand moved up, the fingers clutching at the lapel of his coat. ‘Then what, sir?’
He knew he should keep his eyes on the road. He knew that to look down at her would be his undoing, but he could not resist. She was gazing up at him, the starlight reflecting in her eyes. The breath caught in his throat.
‘I am afraid,’ he muttered, bringing his horse to a stand, ‘I am very much afraid I will not be able to help myself.’ She was leaning back against his arm and he tensed the muscles, pulling her closer. ‘I might... I might do this.’
She gazed up at him, unprotesting, as he lowered his head. Her lips parted beneath his and at the same time her hand on his lapel tugged him closer. He was lost. Her body melted against him as he took her firmly in his arms and deepened the kiss. She responded and, when her tongue tangled with his, little arrows of desire fired his blood. Time had stopped, nothing mattered but Molly, her delicious softness in his arms, the taste of her on his lips. He slid one hand to her breast and she whimpered with pleasure. It was only when Flash shifted restlessly that he came to his senses. He broke off the kiss, dragging in a long, shuddering breath.
* * *
Molly eased herself upright as the horse began to walk on again. She was dazed, her body still trembling with the powerful shock of that kiss. She had not wanted it to end and she knew Russ felt the same, because she was practically sitting on his lap and, even through the layers of material between them, his arousal was evident. A shiver of exhilaration ran through her. Did he want more than that one stolen kiss? Was he about to offer her carte blanche? The excitement pooled deep inside and a delicious lightness began to curl up through her. She wanted him. She could not deny it. She wanted to throw caution to the winds and ride away with him into an unknown future.
The last time she had felt anything like this she had been a girl of seventeen, in the heady throes of first love. The feelings and sensations might be familiar, but now they were so much hotter and stronger than anything she had experienced before. How could this be? Had she not learned anything in the past seven years? He would not offer her marriage. She was a lost soul as far as he was concerned, certainly not the woman of impeccable character he demanded for his bride. But all her arguments were fruitless. All she knew was that she wanted him. Desperately. She put a hand up to her mouth, stunned at her own wantonness.
‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, misreading her distress.
She shook her head, swallowed and tried to make light of it.
‘I cannot say you did not warn me,’ she said. ‘Let us call it your reward for rescuing me.’
‘No hysterics, no outrage?’ He gave a shaky laugh. ‘Ah, darling Molly, you are very calm when you must be aware how much I would like to carry you off this minute!’
Darling Molly!
The hand that had been covering her mouth dropped to her breast, as if to stop her pounding heart from breaking through. Her whole being ached for him and she was ready to agree to anything, anything he might suggest.
‘I cannot do it,’ he said. ‘You bravely told me about your past, so I know what a struggle it has been for you to build your reputation here. I cannot destroy all those years of work for a few hours’ pleasure.’
Is that how he thought of her, a quick, brief coupling before he moved on? Molly was not at all sure what she had been hoping for, but his words fell on her like cold water, shocking her back to the reality of the situation. For a brief, heady period she had allowed her body to rule her head. She could not deny the deep pleasure of his kiss, but she knew—she knew—it would only lead to disappointment. She had not only her own experience to draw on, but also that of the girls and women living at Prospect House.
Those who had given into men’s blandishments lost their maidenhood, their good name and almost all chance of living a respectable life. A hasty marriage had saved her from ruin once and she had been about to sacrifice everything and give in to her desires. She should be thankful that Russ refused to take advantage of her. She was thankful. But it did not stop her feeling angry, an anger made all the hotter by the bitter and irrational disappointment that she was not desirable enough to tempt him. She drew on every ounce of pride to formulate an answer.
‘I am very glad we have clarified that point, sir,’ she said with icy politeness. ‘
We may now be easy when we meet and know exactly where we stand with one another. We are almost at the vicarage. If you let me down here, there will be no need for anyone to know you brought me home.’
‘Molly, are you angry with me? Surely you did not want me to—’
‘Too late, someone is already coming out to meet us... It is Edwin. He must have been looking out for me.’
She waved to her brother, holding on to her brittle cheerfulness as he ran up to them.
‘Molly, thank God you are back. I was about to come looking for you! Tell me at once what has happened. An accident?’
‘Yes, yes, but nothing serious. Do help me down, Edwin, then we need not trouble Mr Russington to dismount.’
‘Of course, but what happened?’ Edwin demanded as he reached up for her.
‘The gig wheel smashed on a stone,’ Russ explained briefly. ‘Your sister was thrown out. Thankfully she suffered no hurt. I brought her home and the horse. The gig is a couple of miles out of town, but it is slewed on to the grass verge and not blocking the highway. It should be safe enough until morning.’
‘Thank goodness it was not more serious,’ said Edwin, putting an arm around Molly. ‘Although even in this light I can see you are distressed, my love. Let us get you inside. And, Russ, you must come in, too. Come and take a glass of wine with me, sir.’
‘Thank you, but no. Allow me to take your carriage horse to the stable, but then I must get back.’
To Molly’s relief, Edwin did not press him to stay, but he reiterated his thanks as Russ trotted away to the yard.
‘Well, well, Molly. This is the second time Russington has come to your rescue. Who would have thought a notorious rake could behave so chivalrously?’
‘Who indeed?’ said Molly and promptly burst into tears.
* * *
Edwin ushered Molly indoors, clearly worried by her lachrymose behaviour, but she did not realise just how alarmed he was until the following day, when she received two sets of callers. Agnes Kilburn and Serena were shown into the morning room, where Molly had been sitting for an hour with her embroidery lying untouched on her lap. Serena bounced in, explaining that Edwin had called at Newlands that morning.
‘He told us all about your accident yesterday. He said he had come to thank Russ for bringing you home,’ she chattered on, untying the strings of her bonnet and casting it aside. ‘But he would have done that last night, would he not? I think his real reason for calling was to see Agnes. He is so smitten that he cannot keep away!’
Molly invited a blushing Agnes to come and sit beside her and admonished Serena with a look.
‘There really was no need for you to make a special journey to see me,’ she said. ‘It was the veriest spill and I was not at all hurt, I assure you.’
‘But Edwin told us you had spent the evening crying, which he says you never do,’ argued Serena. ‘I thought my brother might be the cause. Was he uncivil to you?’
‘No, of course not.’ Molly tried to sound indignant, but Serena was not deceived.
‘You are blushing, Molly Morgan! Did he flirt with you—did he try to kiss you?’
‘That is enough, Serena!’ Agnes chided her. ‘Horrid girl, I shall take you back to Newlands this minute if you do not behave yourself.’
‘But I want to know,’ protested Serena, not a whit abashed.
‘There is nothing to know,’ replied Molly. ‘Mr Russington came upon me standing beside the broken gig and—and brought me home.’
‘But Edwin says he carried you before him on his horse. In his arms!’
‘I was too shaken to walk, so he took me up.’ Molly put up her hand. ‘And no, Serena, he did not try to flirt with me.’ She added, trying not to sigh, ‘Far from it.’
Agnes gave her a searching look, but at that moment the door opened and more visitors walked in. Molly jumped up to greet them.
‘Why, Fleur, Nancy, I had no idea you intended to come to town today.’
‘How could we stay away?’ cried Fleur, flying across the room to take Molly’s outstretched hands. ‘As soon as we heard of your mishap we had to come and see you.’
There was a pause while greetings were exchanged and Molly was persuaded to sit back down on the sofa between Agnes and Fleur. It was some moments before she could ask how they had learned the news.
‘From Sir Gerald, of course,’ said Nancy. ‘He told Fleur Edwin was most anxious about you.’
‘All this fuss over a little tumble,’ exclaimed Molly. ‘I assure you all I am perfectly well.’
‘No, she is not,’ put in Serena. ‘She is in love with my brother.’
This declaration brought an indignant protest from Molly and a reprimand from Agnes, but Nancy laughed.
‘So we have another pair of lovers. Oh, pray do not look at me like that, Fleur. You and Sir Gerald have been smelling of April and May for weeks now and Molly herself told me that Edwin will use any excuse to visit Newlands. Anyone would think it was spring in Compton Parva, rather than autumn.’
‘Nancy, you are jumping to conclusions,’ muttered Fleur, her cheeks crimson. ‘What will Miss Kilburn think...?’
‘Miss Kilburn has already guessed it,’ replied Agnes, smiling. ‘Why else would Gerald be so eager for me to make your acquaintance? But as for Mr Frayne’s attentions to me—’ it was her turn to blush ‘—nothing has been said, there is no understanding between us.’
‘Only that you cannot keep your eyes from one another when you are in the same room,’ remarked Serena gleefully.
Despite her blushes, Agnes drew herself up and said with gentle dignity, ‘We did not come here to talk about me. It is Molly who concerns us.’
‘And I assure you there is no need,’ Molly replied, her own colour much heightened. ‘The idea that I am...am in love with Mr Russington is laughable. He...he would never give a thought to me.’
Fleur tutted softly. ‘You do not know that.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Molly forgot to play her part and this time the sigh escaped her. ‘He told me so himself.’ She realised her words had caused a flutter of indignation in her audience and added hurriedly, ‘Pray do not think I mind, he was merely trying to reassure me that I was perfectly safe, travelling alone with him.’
‘Then it shows he was concerned for you,’ said Fleur.
‘It shows a sad lack of tact,’ countered Nancy. ‘One would expect a hardened flirt to have more address.’
‘He clearly does not think me worth the effort.’
‘And he never will while you are wearing those old gowns.’ Nancy eyed Molly’s sober grey silk with disfavour. ‘You should have more bright colours, like the red lustring.’
Fleur took her hands. ‘It really is time for you to leave off your mourning, Molly,’ she said gently. ‘You are still a young woman and may yet find another husband.’
Molly shuddered and crossed her arms. ‘I do not want another husband.’
‘A lover, then,’ said Nancy.
Agnes gave a little cry of alarm. ‘I am not sure we should be discussing this here.’
‘If you are afraid for my sensibilities, pray do not be,’ put in Serena cheerfully. ‘After all, it is my brother who is responsible for all this, so I think I must have some part in it. And if you were to ask me,’ she went on, ‘I do not think he is indifferent to Molly. He told me he likes her very well.’
Molly blinked rapidly. ‘There is a great difference between like and love.’
‘I hope you are not going to go into a decline,’ said Fleur, giving her a searching look.
‘No, of course, she is not,’ Nancy retorted. ‘She is going to show she does not give the snap of her fingers for any man.’
That made Molly smile. ‘I thought I had been doing that for the past six years.’
‘No, you have been hiding behind your widow’s weeds
,’ Nancy told her. ‘It is time now to throw them off.’
‘No, no, I cannot. I would not feel right. I am the vicar’s sister. I have my place to maintain.’ Molly’s voice died away as she wondered how soon she would have to relinquish that position to his wife.
‘A change of clothes will not make you any less capable, my love,’ said Fleur, squeezing her arm. ‘I remember when we were at school together you loved bright colours and you looked so well in them.’
‘And she will do so again,’ said Nancy. ‘Now, do not argue, Molly. We are your friends, and we are determined on this change for you.’
‘Yes, and our ball takes place in three weeks, which will be the perfect time to show off the transformation,’ said Agnes, her eyes dancing.
‘Perfect!’ Serena clapped her hands. ‘We shall turn you from a dull little caterpillar into a gorgeous butterfly. And we shall show my foolish brother just what he is missing!’
* * *
‘You are a fool, Russington. You are torturing yourself unnecessarily. Go back to London and forget Molly Morgan.’
It was not the first time Russ had looked into the mirror and offered himself advice, but he had never yet taken it. He pushed the diamond pin firmly into the folds of his cravat and stood back to admire the effect. He looked every inch the fashionable gentleman, perhaps a little too fashionable for a country ball. The snowy linen was almost startling in the candlelight and showed how tanned his face had become during his stay at Newlands. Hardly surprising, since he and Gerald spent most of their days out of doors. His black curls had been brushed until they glowed, the coat of blue superfine fitted without a crease over his shoulders and, combined with the immaculate white waistcoat, pale breeches and brilliant black leather dancing pumps, it was an ensemble that drew admiring glances in the smartest London salons. It certainly impressed the good people of Compton Parva, but then, thought Russ, a faint, self-deprecating smile curling his lip, they would expect nothing less of Beau Russington, the darling of fashionable society.
The Ton's Most Notorious Rake Page 19
