Desire—hot and sharp struck him low in the gut. How was he to rid himself of this madness? Leave and pray the memory of the maddening Miss Claremont remained at Oakholm? Suffer the knowledge of her in his brother’s bed for however long he decided to keep her? Or do as Thomas had suggested and ask her to be his mistress?
Evan recalled the soft texture of her hair, the way her skin glistened with raindrops, her stilted breaths and wide eyes. The urgent throb of need grew painful. By God, he needed more. Thomas could not be allowed to have her, but he would. He would take Miss Claremont as his mistress and slate his lust until this obsession had run dry.
Chapter Seven
Heat scalded Lilly’s cheeks. The tingling sensation washed through her again and, as the vicar continued his sermon in a droning tone, she stole a peek at Lord Hawksley who sat on the pews to the side, not far from her. She dropped her gaze abruptly only to find it snaking back to him. As though watching a game of tennis, she found herself swinging her gaze between him and the vicar, each time still managing to be surprised when she found Lord Hawksley watching her.
The manner in which he watched her unsettled her most. Yes, he still didn’t smile and a tiny crease remained between his brows, but in his eyes was something new—a wild sort of determination aimed at her. What she had done to deserve such a look, she did not know.
As it was, her belief of his guilt was wavering. By all accounts, the marquess was a good man. None of the party had a bad word to say about him and in the two days since the library incident—Lord, that still made her tremble and her stomach swooped in remembrance—she had found no proof of his involvement in her father’s death nor any great reason for it. To be owed money was no unusual thing for the marquess, according to Lady Richdale, who could be counted on to talk openly about her brother-in-law’s affairs. Many turned to him for business support and he enjoyed taking an active role in all manner of investments.
And then there was the way in which he had worried for his brother. Lilly dropped her gaze to her lap and toyed with the tip of a glove. Yes, murderers could worry for their family, she was sure, but with such genuine emotion? His odd concern for her had revealed a somewhat charitable nature too. If he hadn’t quickly snapped back into being cold and austere, she might have been completely convinced of his innocence.
She sighed and forced herself to focus on the vicar. With only a week left at Oakholm, she was tempted to throw in her investigations and try to enjoy Lady Stanley’s hospitality. Such a closed-off man would be impossible to unravel. Lady Richdale put it down to him being the eldest brother—bearing all the responsibility from a young age—but Lilly suspected the gentleman simply took pleasure in being so severe and endeavoured to make everyone as miserable as himself.
If she’d found out nothing else by the end of next week, she would visit her cousin, she vowed, and question his assertion that Lord Hawksley must have ordered the killing. A murderer was still on the loose, after all, and the person behind the order had to be brought to justice.
Lady Stanley nudged her with an elbow, and Lilly shook herself. “Yes?”
“Lilly, you are in a world of your own. It is time to leave, dear.”
Standing, she offered Lady Stanley a smile. “Forgive me, I’m tired.”
“That is understandable, my dear, after everything that has happened to you recently, but you are really quite distracted and…” the woman’s smile expanded, “I suspect I know the source of your distraction.”
Lilly held her skirts as they slid out from between the pews and her shoes clicked on the tiled floor of the church. “I don’t know what you mean, my lady, but I apologise for my distraction. Of course, my father—”
“Oh, I do not doubt you are still grieving, but I believe another man to be the cause of your preoccupied manner.” Lady Stanley put a secretive finger to her lips and flicked a look at Lord Hawksley as he approached.
Barely suppressing a groan, Lilly’s cheeks blazed. “I assure you—” she hissed.
“My ladies.” Lord Hawksley—true to his name—was upon them, swift and silent. He peered down his nose at her and her stomach did that annoying dance once more.
“My lord, an interesting sermon, was it not?” Lady Stanley asked, but did not wait for a response as she spied the earl behind him. “Ah, Lord Brexley, do be so kind as to play my escort.”
The earl tipped his hat and moved past them to escort Lady Stanley. With Lady Richdale and Thomas at the head of their group and Mrs Willis joining the earl, Lilly found herself left alone with Lord Hawksley. Tight-lipped, she sighed. All by Lady Stanley’s design too probably. Why she thought Lord Hawksley would have any interest in her, she didn’t know. A man of his ranking would never have designs on an illegitimate woman.
Not to mention every time he looked at her, dislike clouded his handsome features. His lips pursed, his brow furrowed. Likely everything about her offended him—from her political views, to her birth, to her unguarded tongue. Still, let him dislike her. She cared little what the nobility thought of her.
She shook herself mentally. Not to mention she still hadn’t decided for certain he was not the murderer. If only there was some way to be sure.
They stepped out of the church, the narrow doorway causing their arms to brush. Even though the silk of her gown was thick enough, the brief meeting of their bodies caused tingles to race up and down her side. Lilly thanked the vicar as did Lord Hawksley and they followed the path past the gravestones and under the wooden lychgate.
Because the day had promised to be pleasant, Lady Stanley had insisted on them walking. The church sat in the middle of her land, a mere fifteen minute walk, though all her guests had protested at her walking the distance. She had declared the only way she would reach an even older age was by continuing her weekly walk.
Any other day, Lilly might have been grateful to avoid the confines of a carriage, but not now Lord Hawksley was at her side. Sitting in a small space with him would have proved difficult—being in any space with him seemed to restrict her breathing and make her aware of her every movement—but at least she wouldn’t have been depended upon for conversation.
“Fine weather,” he observed and held out a hand to direct her onto the path.
“Indeed.”
Ahead, a copse of trees obscured her view of Oakholm hall and though she enjoyed looking upon the grand building, the unspoiled view of the gently rolling hills made her smile.
“The weather amuses you.”
She glanced at him. “No, not at all.”
“The topic of conversation then?”
Lilly frowned and eyed him. For days he had said nothing to her and now he seemed insistent on conversing. “I was merely appreciating the view and thinking that many would not think it so pretty.”
“Why would they think that?”
“I imagine many would prefer to look upon the grandeur of the hall.”
“I think, Miss Claremont, that grandeur is a fine thing but can become tiresome to the eye. A more simple beauty, however, one can never tire of.”
Her heart constricted—the tight web he seemed to weave about her enclosing her and pulling her deeper. He could not mean her, yet when she met his gaze, in those dark depths something echoed. He had spoken of his attraction to her with such disgust, she doubted it possible he meant it and knew well it would pass.
But her looks were simple. Could he be speaking of her? Vanity had never played much of a role in her life. Being tucked away in the country, away from society, left her with little need to primp and preen. However, his words brought warmth to her chest. She could not deny sitting next to the fashionable Lady Richdale with her glossy blonde hair and delicate face made her feel rough and unpleasant. The way Lord Hawksley looked at her, made her feel anything but. She coughed in an attempt to clear the tightness in her throat.
“You do not like compliments, Miss Claremont?”
“You were speaking of the scenery, were you not? I don’t see
how I can find offence in that.”
He paused and Lilly eyed the growing gap between themselves and the rest of their party. She kept her gaze on the horizon as fluttering panic beat against the cage of her ribs.
“You are an intelligent lady and you know full well I was speaking of your beauty and not of the scenery.”
“My lord, I thank you for your compliments, but your efforts would be better bestowed elsewhere.”
“I thought every lady liked to hear of her beauty.”
She felt his gaze trace her profile. It was only a matter of time before she would have to look upon him. She steeled herself against him—prepared herself for his intense gaze and firm lips, his aristocratic nose and tempting jaw line—before facing him.
“I’m not like every lady.”
A hint of a smile curved his lips. “That you are not.”
“Come, we are losing the others.” She went to continue on but he grasped her arm. The shock of the contact froze her. Her lips parted and a whistle of air left her lungs. “Lord Hawksley!” she exclaimed huskily.
“You are not like every lady,” he said, turning her to face him. She wriggled but to no avail. His grip merely tightened. “You drive me to the edge of madness.”
“My lord, I do not mean—”
“I am resolved to rid myself of that madness. Your circumstances put you in such a position that I don’t think my proposition will be unwelcome. You desire me as I desire you—”
“I do not!”
He chuckled. “You’re not one to disguise your feelings, even when you try. The stain on your cheeks forever gives you away.”
Lilly cursed her propensity for blushing. “Whatever you believe, I see no reason to discuss it, Lord Hawksley. Let us return to Oakholm and forget this. Before long, you shall have returned to your home… or… or London or wherever and will be surrounded by many great beauties. I am sure you shall forget all about me then.”
“Hmmm, I had hoped the same, but I fear that will not be so.”
He released her arm and brought a finger up to skim her cheek. She jolted at the touch but found herself unable to move away. Hunger gripped her stomach—a need for more that she did not wish to acknowledge yet it clawed away at her insides until she surrendered to it and she closed her eyes to focus on that warm fingertip. It traced her cheek once more and landed upon the base of her neck where her pulse hammered. The finger vanished and she opened her eyes. Lilly gulped.
“I have a way...” Lord Hawksley removed his hat and thrust a hand through his hair before placing it back. His throat bobbed. “I see only one way that we can conquer this while benefiting both of us. Your father is dead and I should like to offer you a way of supporting yourself—”
“Lord Hawksley—”
“I flatter myself you shall enjoy Oxfordshire and the fineries I can bestow upon you.”
Lilly stared at the marquess, let her brow furrow and shook her head. The man was talking in riddles. “Lord Hawksley—”
“A year perhaps should do it. I will be sure to compensate you enough so that you will not have to struggle for the foreseeable future and, of course, any children will be provided for.” His brows nearly met as he uttered these confusing words as if he were contemplating something grave and disagreeable.
Whatever did he mean children? And providing for her?
“Lord Hawksley, please, you are rambling!” She paused, remembering herself and the status of the man opposite. “Forgive me.”
He released a reluctant smile. “I am, you are right. You seem to do that to me, Miss Claremont. I am seldom the type to ramble and yet here I am. You have put me in a position I have never found myself in before.”
“My lord, I am at a loss. What position is that?”
“Miss Claremont,” he said, expression grim, “I mean to make you my mistress.”
Pain, as hot and as searing as a knife to the heart, struck her. Air left her lungs and she fought to draw in a deep breath. Lilly stumbled back slightly, forcing Lord Hawksley to take hold of her arm and right her. She wrenched her arm from his grip and put a shaking hand to her mouth.
“Your mistress?”
“Forgive me, I thought you understood what I was inferring.”
“Do you…” She licked her dry lips. “Do you think that because my mother was a mistress, I should be one too?”
“In truth, I had not considered it at all until three days ago.”
He said it so easily, as if he was not asking her to sacrifice her dignity, her life for him—a man who could well be guilty of a great crime against her family.
“I wonder, then, why you considered it at all?”
“You are very bewitching, Miss Claremont. I have never had a need for a mistress but I find myself considering the benefits of it—for both of us. You will be well looked after and provided for. You cannot deny you find me attractive. I assure you, I shall make it a rewarding time for you.”
Open-mouthed, Lilly stared at the arrogant man for some time. His eyes betrayed no emotions. It was as if he was conducting a business affair. To see him like this, she could well believe he might have ordered her father’s death.
“A rewarding time?” she said when her voice returned, though it was but a harsh and whispery shadow of itself. “Do you think me so lowborn as to submit myself to more gossip for the sake of a rewarding time? Or maybe you consider it a punishment for tempting you so? What better way to humiliate a woman so below yourself in rank than by making her a mistress.”
Lord Hawksley straightened his shoulders and narrowed his gaze. “I don’t think you so beneath me, nor is this some kind of punishment. I think my offer a fair one. You have need of support and I have need of you.”
Lilly closed her eyes briefly, fighting back tears of humiliation. Those words—if they had been said in any other circumstances might have warmed her heart, but coming from his lips in such a cold manner made her feel dirty and ashamed.
She had felt that too many times. Her dear mother had too. For years, she had ignored gossip and the supercilious looks but never had any of those whispered words or spiteful glares made her feel this humiliated.
Lilly lifted her chin and prayed he did not see her tears. “I have no need of your kind of support, my lord. I have long looked after myself. I’m sorry that you are in need, but you will not find charity in me. It might seem to you that you can order me about, make demands of me due to my birth, but regardless I am a woman of principle, whatever you may think.”
“Miss Claremont, I do not think of you as… as some kind of…”
“Whore?”
His jaw clenched so hard she heard his teeth clack together. “I never intended to insult you in any way. You cannot deny our attraction and you’d benefit from it greatly.”
“I can deny attraction. At this very moment, I have never been less attracted to a man,” she declared. “I see no benefit in it for me.”
She turned, intending to stomp ahead, but he grabbed her arm again. Scalding anger rolled through her, heating her skin and creating a throbbing ache in her temples. How dare he handle her so? He really did see her as so below him if he thought he could get away with such behaviour. She lifted a hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist and used it to hold her in place.
“You are a stubborn, frustrating woman,” he ground out as he bore down on her. “I am offering us both a way out of this. I don’t see you as a whore. I see you as a beautiful, aggravating, intelligent woman, with few choices. I see you as a craving that I must fulfil if I am to move on with my life, and I have no doubt you feel the same. Whatever you might believe, I’m not a simple man and I know full well you crave me as much as I you. Nor am I so arrogant to not know that I am asking much of you, but I had hoped you were bright enough to see that I’m offering you a way to create a better life for yourself.”
“By being your mistress!”
“Yes. By giving yourself up to me, body and soul, for one year.” His dark and dang
erous gaze dropped to her lips. “I will not lie. I want everything you can give.”
Lilly held her breath. The fire in her belly turned into an ache. Why was the thought of giving herself to him so tempting? Was she no better than her mother? Guilt jabbed her. Sometimes she loathed her mother for the position she had put herself in, but her mother had done it for love. She was far less honourable than her mother if she even remotely considered giving herself to this man for something as simple as desire.
He dropped his head closer so that the brim of his hat almost touched her forehead. Her knees threatened to give way. His breath brushed her lips, ribbons of desire thread through her. Why did this man have such an effect? Lilly trembled.
Lord Hawksley dropped back. He snapped his chin up and released her. Lilly wavered, finding her balance. Whatever she had done changed his countenance. His desire was masked and he made a show of looking for the rest of their party.
“Come, we shall lose the others.”
With a determined stride, he made down the slope and said nothing more, leaving Lilly to grab her skirts and hurry to catch up. What had happened? What could account for the sudden coldness? One moment he had been determined and certain to kiss her and the next...
That same coldness dampened the fire in her veins. It was not disappointment though. No, as much as she’d been tempted to kiss him, she was relieved he had come to his senses. Hopefully his proposition would be forgotten and they would continue on as indifferent acquaintances.
“Foolish girl,” she murmured to herself when a bitter lump of regret settled in her stomach as heavy as coal. After all, she would never wish to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Never.
Chapter Eight
“I asked her, you know.” Evan laid down a card. He loathed whist but the alternative was to sit and make conversation with the ladies and he would not do that.
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