by Suzi Love
She gave him a strange look, a long considering one that worried him. “Yes, you’ve fulfilled my every fantasy. We can part friends and I can return to my ordinary life. And you can start a new life with your family.”
“What do you mean we can stay friends? We’re a lot more than that, Chrissie, and you can’t deny it. Last night was amazing. There’s no reason we can’t keep on seeing each other.”
“Justin, there are dozens of reasons. For one, I live mainly in the country, a very quiet life. Secondly, your mother and sisters will be back living with you very soon.” She stared at the water. “Then you’ll need to marry a suitably titled girl who isn’t scarred by her history.” She waved her hand, a show of nonchalance he didn’t believe. Between these dire pronouncements she swallowed hard, each time, and telling him the words didn’t come easily. “And then, naturally, you’ll be required to produce the expected heir and spare.”
“Then you could marry me. Give me those children.”
Her face creased with lines of distress. “No, Justin, no. It would be unfair to you. I didn’t conceive during my marriage. Chance are I’ll never bear a child. It’s best we go our separate ways. After we’re assured that your family is safe and well, returned to your home, there’ll be no need for us to contact each other.”
He opened his mouth to deny everything she said, yet couldn’t summon any convincing arguments quickly enough. His chest ached with unvoiced emotions. With any other woman, he’d have kissed her cheek, thanked her for the night they’d spent together, and walked away. Or in earlier days when he desperately needed money, he’d have continued a casual liaison whenever it suited them both. The thought of never seeing Chrissie again, or only as a meeting of glances as they twirled down the length of a ballroom didn’t sit well. He shuddered at visions of having to pretend to his future Countess of Hawkesbury that he and Chrissie were passing acquaintances, nothing more. Unfairly, she seemed determined to bid him farewell here and now and then to walk away without looking back. Did she not feel it as he did? Did she not feel the heart’s wrench he suffered when she mentioned parting?
He stood and stared at her until she touched his arm and broke into his thoughts.
“Justin, let us part as friends and let the future eventuate as it will.”
Left with no choice, he nodded, helped right her clothing and lift her down.
“Justin,” she said softly, reaching down to run a caressing hand over the noticeable bulge in his trousers. “Do you want me to relieve you?” She squeezed gently and he sucked in a sharp breath.
Oh, hell yes, he wanted her hand on him. Though not like this, and not after she’d announced they wouldn’t see each other in the future. In a snap of perverseness, he decided if he wasn’t good enough for her bed, then he didn’t want a quick tug and release in his summerhouse. A pity climax wouldn’t be enough, and would be bound to leave him feeling even more frustrated and thwarted.
He removed her hand and shook his head, although he was unable to summon a pleasant demeanor as they walked back to join the others. Consequently, the air was so thick with an unprecedented tension between them it was a miracle he could even draw a breath.
Time to get away from here before he did something also unprecedented, and fundamentally stupid, and fall to his knees before a woman and beg her to stay.
Chapter Sixteen
Four weeks later, Viscount Hawkesbury again walked to the summerhouse on his estate. This time he was accompanied by three different women—his mother and his two sisters. True to her word, Chrissie had traced the whereabouts of his family fairly rapidly, despite his mother hiding behind her maiden name in the village where they were living in seclusion.
A runaway wife was illegal under British law and frowned upon by small-minded people, so she’d presented herself as a widow to save scorn being heaped upon the head of not only her, but also her two daughters. As his mother had explained, they’d settled in a place they liked and where they were accepted, and decided to stay.
When they heard rumors of his father ‘s drunken fall and perhaps even his death, they’d tried to make discreet enquiries. They’d feared making open enquiries in case it proved yet another trick by their father to find them and drag them home. Not because he wanted his wife and daughters around for any loving reasons, more to ensure their solicitor believed the countess to still be alive. The inheritance coming to her from a doting great- uncle held stipulations that it was not to be given to her fortune- seeking husband under any circumstances.
If she died, the money would be held in trust until her son and daughters could be located. Lady Hawkesbury had thought it better to wait until they could be sure either her greedy husband was dead or they could assure themselves that Justin had returned. Or more importantly, that he had not changed to become tarred with the same brush as his father.
Justin now knew his elder sister had taken a post teaching at the local school and was eager to assist at the village school near his estate. His younger sister had also been ill with the same fever that had affected his mother so badly, and was now enjoying a more restful life walking and riding the fields.
Previously, the three women had vowed to stay hidden in their low-key lives on the assumption Justin may have perished when on his eastern travels as no word had come from him for so many years. For his own part, Justin had stayed away because he thought his father still lived, and his mother hadn’t written to him because she’d no desire to see him return home. No wish for the resumption of tiring family conflicts. He lamented the time they’d all wasted at cross- purposes but he now had a chance to put things right. Consequently, his last month had been tempered with high and low points.
Having his family returned lifted an enormous burden from his shoulders, both mentally and financially, and allowed some joy to fill the dark recesses of his heart. However, the consequences of Chrissie severing contact with him prayed on his mind every day as he rode the fields and made new plans for the estate. Plans that should be including his future wife. The torment of giving up her body, and the passion they’d briefly shared, saw him tossing and turning each night in his lonely bed.
Their last meeting had been brief, and crowded with people. Before he’d known it, Chrissie had declared it time for her to depart and leave him to enjoy the comfort of his newfound family. She’d left him bemused, confused, and devastated. Now, he sat with his mother in his drawing room and tried to divert his thoughts from spinning back to Chrissie too many times every hour. An impossible task.
“Mother, I’ve been foolish, and I’ve made so many mistakes. Chrissie— Lady Wellsby—was right to run from me, wasn’t she? I mean, what could a man like me offer a lady like her? I’ve done nothing for years but disappoint others.”
His mother raised her eyes from her sewing and shook her head. She looked utterly fetching in one of her newly purchased gowns from London and totally different from the scared shadow of a woman she used to be. The band around his heart eased a little more each time she smiled, each time she added a little more food to her plate at meal times and a little more flesh to her thin frame. And those times he now caught her admiring herself and her new clothing in a mirror without fear of being discovered and ridiculed, his own spine stiffened. He stood a little taller, felt a little prouder. At least this woman who had given birth to him could now hold her head high without fear of having an eye blackened or a sleeve ripped from a dress.
“Utter rubbish, my dear boy,” she said with a fond smile. “You’ve never disappointed me, or you sisters. You searched for us all this time. If not for your love and persistence, we would still be living in a poor cottage and Lucille would still be coughing. We owe you so much.”
“You’re my family. And I had a large debt to repay to all of you for leaving you to face father ‘s wrath without me.”
“Justin, do not beat your breast upon our account. We understood why you needed to leave. It was either that or die on the gallows for murdering you
r own father, which would have been much harder to bear. And I’ve not forgotten the number of times you stepped between your father’s fist and my face. Nor the beatings you took for one of the girls.”
“I couldn’t let that bastard continue to lay his hands on you. I regret I couldn’t stay longer and protect you until he was dead.”
“It matters little, my son, as after you left he was a changed man. You had stood up to him and threatened his manhood. As a bully, he was unable to continue to use force on us as he lived with the knowledge of your threat to come back and kill him if he touched us again. You spared us anymore misery for those last months.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement of his mother ‘s praise and the look of love she bestowed upon him. “I’m glad at least in that small way I was successful.”
“And we’re also grateful to Lady Wellsby. We’re indebted for everything she did to bring the three of us back home.”
He closed his eyes. He, too, owed Chrissie and he’d never had the chance to thank her properly. “Yes, Lady Wellsby is a very generous woman. Loyal to her friends, and kind to others less fortunate.”
His mother raised a brow at him. “If we’re agreed she’s a remarkable young woman, why, my dearest boy, are you still here? Why haven’t you gone to ask for her hand in marriage?”
“It’s a complicated situation, Mama. She didn’t believe me serious in my intentions, and I … I couldn’t rid myself of the stink of my old reputation.”
Chrissie believed he merely lusted after her body, as he’d either done or pretended to do with many, many others. Certainly physical attraction was part of it, because their lovemaking had stirred a passion in him he’d never experienced before her. Yet, the largest part of his yearning to be with her was to gain her respect, her love.
His mother reached over and touched his arm. “Justin, if you love her, prove it to her. Make her realize she means a lot more to you than your normal passing affair.”
He chuckled. “Mama, I’m not certain this is the correct conversation for a mother to have with her adult son, one reputed to be a scoundrel. Nevertheless, I thank you for your council. If only I could convince myself I deserved her, I’d chase after her in the blink of an eye.”
“And what of Chrissie? Did you ask her what she wanted before you let her leave? I saw the way you looked at each other, Justin, and it warmed my heart to see the love that flowed between you. Are you going to sit and mourn for what might have been? That’s not the stubborn and single-minded boy I remember. Don’t let her escape, Justin. Not if you truly love her. Take a chance she feels the same way, or at least give her a chance to deny it.”
He gave her a small hesitant smile. “You’re right. I’ve always fought for everything. Why am I not fighting for her, for the woman I love?” He jumped to his feet and grinned, more light-hearted than he’d felt in weeks. “If you’ll excuse me for a short time, I have a pressing matter in the city that requires my immediate attention.”
His mother smiled. “Go, my darling, go. Court her, woo her. Do anything you can to get her to marry you. Use the seductive charm the notorious Virile Viscount became famous for.”
“Good God, Mother! Where did you hear about that name?”
She laughed. “Sweetheart, mothers always discover everything about their offspring. We have clandestine methods.”
Justin laughed. “Now you’re terrifying me.”
As he strode from the house, he felt enervated for the first time in days by having a productive plan in his mind. What did he have to lose? Nothing—except perhaps his dignity. Pride he’d long since abandoned. Having to make his money by catering to the sexual whims of the rich had made him acutely aware that beneath their expensive clothes was the same flesh and blood as every ordinary man. Arrogance and conceit mattered little if it meant he’d spend his life alone, without her, without Chrissie. The woman who filled his mind and soul and made his body yearn.
At the stables, he ordered his horse to be readied, arranged for his bags to be packed as quickly as possible and sent by carriage to his London house. Then he drafted a letter, the most important missive of his life. When it was finally done and his first two attempts nothing more that crumpled sheets of vellum in the fireplace, he bid farewell to his family. With a much lighter heart, he rode away from the estate, eager to start on his plans to secure his future.
He refused to consider the possibility she’d ignore his invitation. After all, she’d already visited the Sultan’s Place one night in disguise, so he saw no reason for her to balk at his chosen venue, or his command. Come at midnight and wear the red dress. Nothing else!
After he arrived at his town house, he’d need to move quickly to put his plans in place as he’d have little time to prepare for their forthcoming night and he wanted it to be perfect. He spent the ride deep in thought about the best way to seduce a woman who’d, not long before, declared herself incapable of being lured into passion and intimacy.
He’d taken great delight in disproving her beliefs, and tonight he’d also dispel any ideas she clung to about being past marrying age, or even past bearing children. Not that the latter particularly worried him, because after dealing with prostitutes for so many years, more than anyone, he knew the number of unwanted babies given away each year. They could fill his house with a dozen adopted babies and he’d be outside himself with happiness. As long as Chrissie was there to be their mother. To be his wife.
In his mind, he planned her seduction, something to shock her out of country complacency and yet maintain her ingrained conservatism. He’d control himself, not leap upon her body like a starving lion, but take his time in wining and dining her. Soften her up and fill her belly with course after course of exquisitely prepared French delicacies. Mellow her mind with champagne and wine. When she was replete and relaxed and her physical needs attended to, he’d lead her to his row of prepared activity rooms to feast her sensual senses. He’d need the help of his friends, and possibly every available staff member he could muster at short notice.
Ah! And, of course, Matthew the Large should take center stage. Because no matter how much Chrissie had denied it, her eyes had almost popped out of her head when she’d viewed Matthew servicing two women. He smiled in remembrance. His prim and proper lady experienced a complete change of character whenever she was treated to a visual feast, despite men supposedly being the more visually oriented of the two sexes and women more attuned to emotions. Nevertheless, the Virile Viscount knew how to delve into the recesses of a female’s mind and read her thoughts, so he’d discovered Chrissie’s secret fantasy.
Lady Wellsby dreamed of being swept up in a whirlpool of sex, to have it happen all around her at a vigorous pace, to be surrounded by sin and debauchery, to be close enough to it to reach out and touch it. And she wanted it all without being physically caught up in it. Watching, considering, absorbing, followed by touching and tasting.
Oh, yes! He thrust his fist upwards to the sky. His hard-earned reputation as the foremost authority on sexual sins in the whole of London would prove useful. If anyone could arrange the perfect night for a perfect princess, it was he, notorious Hawkesbury.
Sheer bravado carried him through the rest of his busy day while he sent servants scurrying all over London delivering messages and calling in favors. At fifteen minutes past the witching hour of midnight, he paced the foyer of the Sultan’s Palace and checked his pocket watch for the twentieth time. He’d tugged it from his fob pocket so many times, Bart advised him to leave it dangling from its Prince Albert style gold chain. Otherwise, his high and mighty valet would be reduced to the lowly task of mending clothing.
When a radiant Gillian had arrived with Edward an hour ago and announced they may be anticipating a happy event not too far in the future, he’d attempted to send them home. But even Edward, resplendent in his rich red waistcoat, an exact match for his wife’s gown, had stood firm.
“No, Hawkesbury, my countess and I owe you a great dea
l. You saved our marriage and have possibly hastened the arrival of another addition to our family. Gillian’s mother has been dispatched and order returned to our home. You wanted everyone here dressed in red, and here we are. Although I must say, red simply is not my best color.”
“But for Chrissie,” Gillian said in a rush, “we’d gladly dress in old rags.”
The party seemed almost jovial, especially when Anna joined them. Accompanied by a beaming Thomas, the pair was also attired in shades of red, and, added to Bart’s brilliant red hunting coat, they created a fiery vision.
The group ignored Justin’s half-hearted protests that he didn’t expect them to participate in the festivities but vowed they’d come to support him in his quest to win over Chrissie; they refused to leave until they witnessed her acceptance of his betrothal ring. Justin sagged with gratitude. The waiting was unbearable, but with this show of solidarity from her friends, he allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope.
He clung to a positive attitude. She would accept him. She must. That optimism carried him through another anxious ten minutes until Bart, standing as lookout at the house’s front window called out, “A carriage has arrived.” He peered out to the street again. “She’s here. And she’s wearing red.”
Justin sucked in a breath and said, “Let the show begin.”
Amidst a chorus of “Good luck,” he strode to the door to greet his last guest. He tugged down his own red waistcoat and adjusted the ostentatious ruby pin fixing his cravat in place. The formality above his waist looked out of place with his wide harem trousers but the ruby pin was a gesture of defiance to his father who’d defiled the Hawkesbury titles. And also a bolster to his self- esteem in his attempt to convince Chrissie he could play the part of titled gentleman and mix with the higher echelons of society when the occasion arose.
If they married … no! Be positive. When they married, she’d expect her husband to take some part in the social arena that bored him, but that he’d been driven to mixing in out of desperation for quick funds. Although if he had Chrissie at his side, and in his arms, he’d take a new perspective on evenings spent talking and dancing.
