The Lady Who Loved Him

by Christi Caldwell

  Chloe dimly registered him lying between her legs and his length nestling at the gates of her femininity.

  He thrust deep. Her sopping channel slicked the way for his entry, but still, the tearing of that thin scrap of flesh pulled a shuddery gasp from her.

  Leo caught the trailing end of that sound, swallowing it with his kiss.

  He stilled, his chest frantically rising under the restraint he showed.

  Chloe caressed her fingertips over his lower back.

  He placed a kiss at her temple. “I am so sorry,” he whispered.

  Laboring to keep her lashes open, she held his gaze. “There are no regrets here. Not between us, and certainly not now.”

  Heat blazed in his cerulean-blue eyes. With a primitive groan, he began to move. Slowly at first. In and out. Over and over. Until all pain receded and desire invaded every corner of her being, so all she was capable of was feeling.

  Chloe lifted her hips, meeting his powerful strokes. With every lunge that found him buried deep inside her, she climbed higher and higher.

  “Come for me,” he cried. His hair fell across his brow, and he touched her to the quick.

  Chloe screamed over and over and burst into a million shards of blissful, beautiful feeling. Leo cried out. His primal shout blended with her endless call of his name as he tossed his head back and poured himself inside her.

  Gasping for air, Leo went limp and collapsed.

  As he rolled off her and drew her into the nook of his shoulder, Chloe burrowed into him. And with a contented smile on her lips, she slept.

  Chapter 30

  Leo was sending her away.

  It was a discovery that had come to her not as she’d awakened in his bed after an endless night of lovemaking to find him gone. Or to find the sheets beside her wrinkled and cold from one who’d long taken his leave of her.

  Rather, it had been more definitive, in the form of an army of maids packing her trunks and valises the following morning.

  Standing in the doorway, Chloe opened and closed her mouth, trying to bring forth questions for Doris, who made a point of avoiding her gaze. “What is going on?” she asked. All the young women came to a screeching halt with their activities.

  The five servants looked between one another, before homing in on Chloe’s lady’s maid.

  Doris gulped. “M-my lady,” she squeaked.

  A sick sensation pitted in Chloe’s belly. “Nothing,” she said tightly. Fury, hurt, and humiliation all roiled in her chest. “Nothing at all.” She’d not make a cake of herself in front of her staff. Nor would she misdirect her upset.

  Spinning on her heel, she stalked off.

  Strapping footmen bearing trunks hurried out of her way, allowing her to blaze a direct path through the bustling halls, down the stairs, and onward to Leo’s office. Not bothering with a knock, she shoved the door open. “What is the meaning of—”

  Empty.

  Chloe did a sweep of the room.

  Empty of not just the man who called this his kingdom, but also… his sideboard.

  Her lips parted, and she ventured deeper into the room, searching for the broad mahogany piece filled with bottles and decanters.

  “May I help you, my lady?”

  Chloe gasped and spun about to face the young servant. Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she stifled a frown. Leo’s clerk, Holman, dogged her footsteps when Leo wasn’t about. He was a shadow that she could not shake.

  “I’m looking for my husband.”

  “His lordship has gone out.” He stretched an arm out in an obsequious gesture that urged her from the room.

  Chloe pursed her lips. As she was the lady of the household, his superior attitude grated. “Do you know when I can expect him back?” she countered, planting her feet on the floor.

  The young man adjusted his spectacles, but not before she caught the flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I wouldn’t presume to press his lordship for such details.”

  And yet, he thought nothing of steering her from her husband’s offices like she was a naughty child underfoot. Chloe’s days of being ordered about by any man had come and gone long ago. “Thank you, Holman. That will be all.”

  The clerk went slack-jawed at the dismissal. “I must really insist, my lady—”

  “Holman, that will be all,” Tomlinson called beyond the younger servant’s shoulder.

  Holman yanked at his crimson lapels and, with a deep bow, quit the rooms.

  “My apologies for Holman, my lady. He meant no offense.”

  And yet, nonetheless, he’d caused it. “He follows me about,” she said bluntly. Just as he’d done since the carriage accident days earlier.

  “His lordship asked Holman to look after you.” Tomlinson’s gaze caught hers. “He takes pride in his work for the marquess.”

  Chloe opened her mouth and then registered the glint in the older servant’s eyes. Why… Holman was in Leo’s employ, but not as a mere clerk. Of course. The timing of his presence now made sense. And yet, the other implication was that Tomlinson also knew of Leo’s role within the Home Office. What did that mean about the butler’s role in the household? Was everyone more than they seemed?

  “Is there anything else you require, my lady?” Tomlinson murmured, his expression guarded once more.

  “No,” she said slowly. “That is all. Wait,” she called as he turned to go. Chloe motioned to the barren space at the opposite end of Leo’s office. “Do you know where my husband’s sideboard has gone?”

  Tomlinson inclined his head. “He ordered it removed.”

  “Why would he do that?” she blurted. As long as she’d known her husband, he’d been comfortable with a drink in hand. Was it just another display of selling things off to cover manufactured debts?

  “I’m afraid that is a question best reserved for his lordship.”

  His lordship, who’d ordered her belongings packed and then summarily disappeared. She clenched her jaw as her earlier anger surged forward.

  “And what question is that?” the unaffected voice that had become so very beloved drawled from the doorway, pulling her attention from Tomlinson.

  Wordlessly, the butler slipped past Leo.

  Her heart fluttered.

  This was the first time she’d seen him since they’d made love. She roved her gaze over him. His tan, front-button trousers clung to his long, powerful legs. “Leo,” she greeted, priding herself on that steady deliverance. With a burgundy tailcoat accentuated by black sleeves, a midnight cravat, and matching brocade waistcoat, he had the look of a devil who’d come to tempt.

  “Chloe,” he murmured.

  Only she knew there was so much more to Leo Dunlop, the Marquess of Tennyson. Her reasons for searching him out became mixed up as her body burned with the memories of the night before. The endless hours they’d spent learning each other’s bodies, the pleasure he had brought her, and her discovering what brought him pleasure in return. Her cheeks warmed, and she damned that pathetic response… when he should be so… aloof. So somber.

  He was framed in the doorway, his chiseled features bearing not so much as a hint of the teasing rake who’d stolen her heart. She hated him for so effortlessly slipping into this unreadable stranger.

  They spoke at the same time.

  “Where—”

  “I have—”

  Leo was quick to motion her on.

  “Your sideboard is missing.”

  It was the most nonsensical of places to start—and yet, the safest.

  Leo entered the room. “I had it removed… along with all the spirits.”

  Chloe fluttered a hand about her throat. “Why?”

  “After what you shared?” He curled his hands. “You think I could drink again, knowing everything you shared?”

  At that sacrifice, every last corner of her heart was lost to him. Tears clogged her throat. Not even her brothers had managed, or so much as attempted, that feat for her or the other Edgerton women. “Thank you,” she wh
ispered. Surely those were not the actions of one who wished to sever their connection.

  A blush splotched Leo’s cheeks, an endearing boylike flash of color that marked him so different than the rake who’d scandalized her with his words and actions in Lord Waterson’s residence. “I’ve greater restraint and self-control than most know.”

  He cleared his throat. “I have something for you.”

  “Oh?” Surprise pulled that little exclamation from her. She’d never been one to want or seek out baubles and fripperies, but there was a tender intimacy in her husband going out and purchasing something with only her in mind. Relief drove away the earlier anger and unrest. Mayhap he wasn’t sending her away. Mayhap they were going somewhere together. Mayhap—

  Leo drummed his fingertips once again and—

  Chloe’s eyebrows shot up.

  More than thirty inches in height, a fawn mastiff trotted forward.

  Leo snapped his fingers once, and the dog sank onto his haunches at his side.

  “You bought me…”

  “A dog,” he finished for her. “More specifically, a mastiff.”

  She cocked her head, and the dog, with enormous jowls and a black muzzle, matched her movements.

  Leo strolled deeper into the room. The mastiff remained dutifully frozen where he’d sat. Almost as an afterthought, Leo tapped his leg twice.

  The dog sprang into movement. Trotting over, he joined Leo and waited expectantly. “You aren’t pleased,” Leo noted.

  “I… am,” she started, but words failed her. He’d never again spoken about that particular term of their arrangement, and the more she’d known her husband, she’d not wished to force him into that commitment.

  Leo pointed a finger at Chloe. The mastiff quit Leo’s side and walked over to Chloe. His nails were noiseless upon the Aubusson carpet.

  “He is big,” she finally settled for. A coarse tongue lapped her fingers, and she started. Big, brown eyes stared back.

  “Down,” Leo commanded. The mastiff immediately sank into position, resting his head between his paws. “He is large, but they are, by nature, a gentle and loyal breed,” he informed as he strolled to his desk, shucking his black gloves as he went.

  Chloe stared on, feeling like one who’d entered onto the stage without the benefit of her lines. “He is lovely,” she praised, going to a knee beside Leo’s gift. She stroked the dog between his ears, and he leaned into the caress. “I simply had imagined we would have a mastiff puppy.” Not a dog that was surely fourteen stone and more than two and a half feet tall.

  Leo stuffed his gloves inside his jacket. “He is the finest in England. It’s taken me some time to find him. He’s fully trained and will serve as a masterful guard dog for you.”

  “For me,” she repeated dumbly. “Not ‘us’?”

  He winced. “Chloe,” he began.

  Her eyebrows snapped into a single line. Why… he was pawning her off on a dog. “Are you sending me away?” she demanded.

  He paused a fraction of a moment. Then he enthroned himself in that miserable-looking chair, a king in command of all.

  She sucked in a breath. “You are.” It was as she’d expected. “It’s why you bought me the dog.”

  Leo swiped a hand over his eyes. “His name is Henry.”

  Chloe rocked on her heels. “My God, you don’t deny it.”

  He sighed. “There is nothing to deny.”

  His absolute indifference melted away the last of her pride, suffusing her breast with so much hurt, it left a sharp ache that would never go away. “I don’t care what his name is,” she cried.

  Henry whined, shifting his head back and forth between his paws. Chloe stormed Leo’s desk. Her skirts snapped noisily about her ankles. “How dare you?” she seethed, feeding the fury to keep from buckling under the hurt. She dropped her palms on his desk. “Do you have nothing to say?”

  “What is there to say?” he asked in agonized tones. She celebrated them, for at least they meant he felt… something and not that absolute apathy. “I’ve given you everything you asked for, Chloe.” He stood and placed his palms upon the immaculate surface of his desk so that they were like mirror reflections of wholly different images. “You desired your independence, Mrs. Munroe’s, the dog—” Henry yapped once in canine affront.

  “Is that what this is?” Her voice trembled. “You checking off items on a list?” Hurt bled from that question, and she could not hold it at bay. Nor did she want to. She wanted him to know everything that was in her heart. She wanted no more secrets between them. And more… she wanted a life… with him in it.

  “I don’t…” Leo lifted his palm in supplication. “I’ve never done this, Chloe,” he said pleadingly. “Not with any woman. I’m trying to give you what you want.”

  “I want you. I love you.” The truth burst from her, echoing in the quiet. Chloe and Leo went still. Terror, and some other undefined emotion, glittered in his eyes. She gentled her voice and sailed around his desk. “I love you, Leo,” she repeated.

  All the muscles of his face contorted. “No.”

  “Yes,” she said again. Reaching up, she framed his face with her hands. “I love you,” she said a third time, needing him to hear it. Needing him to believe it. Wanting those three words to matter to him.

  His eyes slid briefly closed. “No one loves me,” he said hoarsely, his words lancing at her soul. A pained chuckle shook his frame. “No one even likes me.”

  Her lips twitched. “I like you very much. I love you even more.” Chloe’s smile faded, and she lowered her palms to his chest. His heart pounded erratically, like he’d just run a great race. Even though she’d suffered at the hands of her father, she’d had a loving mother and siblings about. Despite the uncle he’d had about, he’d lived under the thumb of cruelty and hatred. She wanted to spend the rest of her days replacing those memories with ones they shared. Chloe smoothed her palms over the lapels of his burgundy tailcoat. “I see who you really are.”

  She braced for the protestations—that, this time, did not come.

  Leo’s throat bobbed. “I love you, Chloe. I never knew there was a woman like you. You taught me to laugh and reminded me of what it is to be human…” He tugged his fingers through his hair. The abrupt movement jarred her arms and sent them back to her sides. “And you’re so bloody clever and spirited.” Each beautifully sincere compliment that tumbled from him widened her smile. Leo touched his forehead to hers. “I love you,” he echoed the pronouncement. Her heart lifted, soared, and then took flight. “It is why I need to send you away.” And that wildly beating organ crashed to the earth.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “You do,” he begged. “It’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

  “That was before you.” Chloe caught his hands and twined them with her own, joining their digits. “Mrs. Munroe’s was the dream I aspired to.” Only, how little she’d thought of the post of headmistress… or anything or anyone since Leo. “You made me see that we can have that, together. A place where young girls… and boys can be educated and safe.” He, with what he’d shared of his own past, had opened her eyes to the fact that young women were not the only ones in desperate need of an institution where people cared for them. “You can still make a difference,” she told him as she glanced to the door and then lowered her voice. “Outside the work you’ve done.” He’d given his life for the Crown. It was time he took for himself.

  A resounding silence met her profession, stirring her nervousness. “Say something,” she urged.

  “You have to leave.”

  She firmed her mouth. “How long? Until your assignment is complete? A week? A fortnight?” Her voice climbed as she spoke. “A year?” How little she knew about his work. But she knew enough that she despised the whole damned Home Office, because its hold on him was greater than any mistress or lover.

  Leo released her hands. The separation, telling and powerful for what it conveyed, split a hole in her chest. “Chloe—�
�

  “Don’t,” she pleaded, laying herself bare before him. “I’ll not let you push me away as you did Daphne. I’m not afraid. I can face anything with you.”

  “What if we had children?”

  If.

  Two letters and one syllable that ripped up her hope for a future.

  “We would care for them and love them together.”

  “You and they would always be at risk, and I’m selfish.” Leo slid his gaze past the top of her head. “I’m a bastard in every sense of the word,” he continued in somber tones. “But you’ve shown me that I’m not so much a bastard that I’d put my happiness before your safety and well-being. I love you enough to let you go.”

  Chloe grabbed him by his lapels and dragged herself up onto her tiptoes so she could meet his gaze. “I do not want to go,” she gritted out.

  He offered her a sad smile. “The choice isn’t yours. It never was.”

  She sank back. The weight of finality washed over her. It filled her with panic, left her in tumult. “What if I’m already with child?” she asked, her voice pitched.

  A brief light glinted in his eyes, and then that glimmer was extinguished. “Send word if you discover you’re increasing.”

  That was it.

  He reached inside his jacket and handed her a sheet of ivory vellum.

  “What is this?” she asked, already unfolding the page, seeing before he spoke.

  “They are Henry’s commands. He’ll answer to each. If someone wishes you harm, the directives are at the bottom there.” Leo pointed over her shoulder, and she slapped his hand away.

  Fueled by anger and hurt, she stalked off, putting space between them. “You’re a coward,” she spat.

  He shrugged. “I never professed to be anything more.”

  “What is the command for ‘go to hell’?” she clipped out. Fumbling with the page, she ran her eyes over it and then patted her leg once.

  Henry pushed up onto all fours. As she yanked the door open, he fell into step beside her.

  Four hours later, after all the carriages had been packed, Chloe boarded her husband’s conveyance.