The Fortune Hunter

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  Nerissa backed away, unable to speak the truth she had never owned even to herself. If she succumbed to her desires for Hamilton’s caresses, she might prove to be as want-witted as her mother had been when she had been seduced into marrying Albert Pilcher. One of her earliest memories had been of a pledge never to repeat her mother’s mistake. It was a pledge she must keep, no matter how much it broke her heart.

  Late that afternoon, Nerissa sat in a chair by the window in the glorious bedroom. Her feet were tucked beneath her, her elbow on the arm of the chair, her chin propped on her hand, as she stared out the window. She listened while Frye hummed to herself as she puttered about the room, finishing their packing for the trip the next day, readying Nerissa’s clothes for the evening, and supervising the maids as they filled Nerissa’s bath. She had hoped to keep her disquiet to herself, but she realized how silly that hope was when Frye came to sit next to her.

  “Miss Dufresne, if speaking of it would help, your words would go no farther than my ears.”

  “I know,” she said quietly, “but I have nothing to say.”

  Frye continued to grumble while Nerissa bathed and then dressed in her best gown of white cambric. Pulling light blue ribbons, which matched the ones at the high bodice of Nerissa’s gown and along its hem, through Nerissa’s upswept hair, the abigail attempted to discover what had happened that had sent Nerissa to hide in her room while the rest of the guests enjoyed the entertainments provided by Lord Windham.

  Finally Nerissa said, “You will have to save your questions, Frye.”

  “For what? For you to avoid answering them later? Miss Dufresne, if you want my opinion—”

  “I don’t right now.”

  “I would say you either have had a falling out with the viscount or a falling in.”

  Nerissa faltered as she was putting on her gloves. Baffled, she asked, “What do you mean? A falling in? What is that?”

  The abigail’s frown did not waver. “A falling in love, Miss Dufresne. You know how caper-witted that would be! Lord Windham has been kind to you, I own, but, knowing what I do of his past, he will have no appropriate intentions. When you assured me you were only friends, I could permit this to continue, but now …” She shook her head and turned away. “I shall be glad when we are ensconced in our house on Laura Place again.”

  Nerissa stared after her abigail as Frye went into the dressing room. In a whisper, she answered, “So will I.”

  The grand salon of Windham Park had been awakened from its dusty, drowsy sleep to sparkle in the day’s last light. The room, set into the largest circular tower, rose to a round window in the top of the dome that was decorated with friezes of the classical gods and goddesses enjoying an al fresco gathering while Pan and his pipers provided music. Carved cornices edged the dome with a garden of flowers, each different from the one next to it. Gilt shimmered on the columns edging each door and decorated the walls.

  Music was muted beneath conversation as Nerissa walked into the room. She heard upshot laughter and wondered if the men had continued to indulge in their brandy all day. A smile pulled at her stiff lips when she saw Annis and Philip sitting together, holding hands and talking softly.

  “The very picture of young love, aren’t they?”

  She turned slowly to face Hamilton, whose face above his forest green coat was set in stern lines. Although she longed to ease the rift between them, she must be cautious to ignore her heart, which begged her to give it to him. “We need to talk,” she said, not caring if he reviled her for her scaly behavior earlier.

  “So we do.” Taking her hand, Hamilton said, “Come with me. A walk about the garden shall give us some privacy. I do not wish to share our words with this collection of shuttleheads, who are rapidly traveling into the province of Bacchus.”

  She looked back to Philip and Annis. Annis’s soft giggle slipped surreptitiously through the rumbled conversations. “I promised Mrs. Ehrlich I would keep a close eye on Annis.”

  Hamilton stroked her fingers as he led her to the opposite end of the room. “I believe the inimitable Mrs. Ehrlich shall be pleased beyond measure when she learns of this evening’s events.”

  “You mean …?” She turned to see Philip holding Annis’s hand and whispering to her with an expression of fearful anticipation. “Oh, how wonderful! I had despaired of him ever making his decision. Does this mean he has set aside his plans to join the army?”

  “He wrote to our aunt this very afternoon informing her of his change of heart.” He laughed wryly. “He has exchanged it for Annis’s, I suspect.”

  “This is wonderful. I must—”

  Laughing, Hamilton tightened his hand around hers. “Give poor Philip a moment to put the question to her. He must speak of his heart-smitten longings with sentiment. He shall use poetry, unlike the simple question I would ask, if I ever was such a perfect blockhead to allow myself to be caught in such a situation.”

  Her heart contracted with painful sorrow. Was this Hamilton’s way of telling her he had not changed his plans for his life? She might be important to him now, but that would change when the next intriguing miss entered his life.

  “Hamilton, I should—”

  Again he interrupted her as he tugged on her hand and walked toward the garden door. “We need to talk away from these curious ears.”

  Causing a scene would complete the undoing of her reputation. She cursed the canons of propriety, which gave her little choice but to go with him out into the cool air.

  The sunset was radiant, dampening the light of the candles which stretched its weak fingers across the grass. Scents of dew-washed shrubs were pungent on the evening breeze that reshaped Nerissa’s dress to her body.

  As he led her past the glow from the grand salon, she asked, “Is that all you aspire to be, Hamilton? A here-and-thereian who bounces through life and never lands anywhere?” She found it easy to look into his silver eyes. Seeing the merriment glowing there, she added, “Is that why you disdained the Season in Town to come to Bath?”

  “If you have not forgotten in your excitement over Philip’s proposal—which I find most unlike you—you know why I spent this summer in Bath.”

  She shivered. “I never forget that, not since … Forgive me,” she added in a stronger voice. “I did not mean to remind you of the disheartening state of your search for that blackguard.”

  “No need for you to apologize, for I assure you that it is never distant from my mind.” He smiled as he seated her on a white, cast-iron bench that circled a tree. “Yet only to you can I speak of this, for Philip is as disdainful of my quest as I was of his scheme to seek glory.”

  “You have many who care for you.” Although no one could love you as I do!

  “But no one whom I can trust.” With a laugh, he said, “Do not look so sad when my brother’s future is about to be settled to his satisfaction and mine.”

  She folded her hands in her lap, locking her fingers together to keep them from reaching for him. As she opened her mouth to speak, he put his finger to her lips.

  “My sweet,” he said in the soft, husky tone that she adored, “you must stop worrying about what others will think of your actions and of mine, and consider only what you and I think of them.”

  Meeting his gaze without compromise, she spoke the words clamoring within her heart. “I have thought often of that today, Hamilton.”

  “Have you?”

  Her heart contracted as she wished he would be as honest with her. Then she realized he might be. He simply did not feel the love she did. If she asked him whether he deemed her more important than the procession of women who had shared his past, she feared he would laugh.

  Chubby arms were flung around her neck, halting her before she could speak. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Annis’s grin in the moment before Annis cried, “The most glorious thing has happened! Philip has asked me to be his wife.”

  “And what did you say?” Hamilton asked.

  She stared at him,
taken aback for a moment. Then she giggled. “I told him yes, of course!”

  Nerissa laughed as she hugged Annis, then turned to Philip. A shy smile tipped his lips, and she wondered how two brothers could be so alike and so different. Both Windhams sought out what they wanted and stalked it with a vengeance, but Philip hid his convictions behind a gentle nature.

  When Philip squeezed her hand swiftly, Nerissa said, “There can be no more perfect match than you two. Are you going to announce it this evening?”

  “Oh, no!” gasped Annis, her voice as shocked as if Nerissa had suggested she and Philip cuckold the parson. “Mama must grant her approval.”

  “Which she shall certainly do in double-quick time,” said Hamilton with a laugh. Signalling to a servant, who had wandered out into the garden, he ordered champagne to be brought. “Tonight we shall celebrate love.” His gaze turned to Nerissa, and she saw the promise there as he added in a whisper only she could hear, “In all its forms.”

  Moonlight streaked the upper corridor. Only the fact that so many of the guests had risen at dawn for the hunt had brought the gathering in the grand salon to an end before the sunrise. As Nerissa walked along the stone floor, she yawned behind her fingers.

  Hamilton laughed lowly, puffing the scent of champagne in her direction. “This fast life may be too much for you.”

  “I would as lief blame that second bottle of champagne.”

  “A bit of drink is good for you.” He paused and turned to face her.

  “But the pop fills my head with bubbles.” She looked up at him and swayed. Giggling softly, she leaned back against the wall.

  He did not laugh as he took a step toward her. “I want you to know that I was not being honest with you earlier,” he whispered as he leaned his hands on either side of her head.

  She tried not to hold her breath as she was encompassed by the strength of his presence. Although she could have slipped beneath the velvet-covered steel of his arm and fled to her room farther along the dusky hall, she continued to look up into his mysterious eyes. Not even the dim light could steal the fire from them.

  When he touched her bare shoulder with a single fingertip, she quivered, unable to curb the warmth flowing from his skin to hers. She gasped as his finger lazily traced the lace along the décolletage of her gown. The sound became a soft sigh of delight as his finger paused directly over her rapidly beating heart.

  “I was false,” he whispered, “when I spoke of having only my quest on my mind. I do think of one other thing unceasingly. Are you curious about what it might be?”

  “No,” she answered as softly, “for I daresay it is what plagues me when I find it impossible to sleep.”

  His low laugh careened through her, setting her whole being to beating with the pulse of her eager heart. “I find it intriguing to think of you awake on Laura Place while I sit before my hearth on Queen Square, wishing you were beside me.” His hand twisted through her hair and loosened it to send it cascading along her back in an ebony river. “I would feel your soft tresses against my skin like this.”

  “Not exactly like this.” She felt heat climbing her face at her unthinking words. Yet, even the flame of embarrassment was not as potent as the yearning which burned within her.

  He smiled with a slow seductiveness that threatened to buckle her knees as she imagined his lips against hers again. “Then you must show me what sweet fantasies you enjoy when you fail to find sleep.”

  She needed no further invitation, for the champagne spun through her head, washing away every reason why she should not give life to her longings. Her hands ran up the green velvet of his coat, rediscovering the strong sinews hidden beneath it. Curving her hands around his high collar, she sifted her fingers upward through the thick waves of his hair. Each strand was a separate caress against her trembling touch.

  He pulled her to him, his mouth seizing hers with a craving that refused to be ignored. She clung to him, softening as he held her in an iron prison from which she never longed to flee. Feeling his firm chest against her, she delighted in his lips coursing across her cheek then slipping in a tantalizing torment along her neck. Each touch, each moist spark burning into her skin, urged her to set aside every thought but of this moment.

  When he reached past her, she gasped as the wall fell away. Hearing his throaty laugh, she looked over her shoulder to see that he had done nothing more than open a door. Her heart halted in mid-beat as she stared at the palatial bedchamber, and knew this huge room with the bed encased in red velvet at its far end was his.

  Taking her hand, he drew her into the soft glow of a single candle that soon would be gutting itself in its sea of wax. She was sure she was drowning, as inevitably as that tallow, when he pulled her again into his arms and pushed the door closed.

  Nerissa tugged away from him and stopped the door from shutting. Gripping its edge, she whispered, “I cannot be what you wish me to be.”

  “What do you think I wish you to be?” When she hesitated, he drew away and slammed his hands into his pockets. His voice grew sharp. “Why are you obsessed with Elinor? Is it her ghost whose chill I feel between us?”

  She shook her head, glad she could speak the truth. “You tell me she is no longer a part of your life. I believe that, for I have no reason to disbelieve you. Hamilton, you know as well that you have no place in your life for me.”

  The twinkle returned to his eyes as he reached to sweep her against him again. “I can think of a place for you at this very moment, my sweet.”

  Although she put her hands on his arms to push away, she had no chance to retort before his mouth found hers again. She ceded herself to the pleasure. To fight it any longer was absurd. This was what she wanted, more than she wanted Hill’s End, more than she wanted success for Cole, more than she wanted anything else she could imagine.

  In a single smooth motion, he slipped his arm beneath her legs and lifted her into his arms while he kicked the door closed. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he carried her to the grand width of his bed. As he leaned her back on the crimson velvet of the coverlet, the flames on the hearth cast their flickering silhouettes against the opposite wall. The two forms merged into one as she drew him down to lie next to her.

  He whispered her name in the moment before his lips brushed hers. This gentle, almost chaste touch was not what she ached for. When she brought his mouth back to hers, she heard his low groan of desire. It resonated within her like something alive, emblazoning the fire in her most private depths.

  He pressed her back into the bed, and she gasped hungrily against his mouth. When he stroked her leg, luring it to entwine with his, she was certain no sensation could be more wondrous. She discovered how mistaken she was when, drawing her sleeve along her arm, he bared her breast to his questing mouth. Fiery flicks of his tongue teased its very tip. Her whole body quivered before the sensuous assault. The heat of his mouth and the flush of his breath etched rapture into her.

  Wanting to give him the same pleasure, she grazed his ear with her tongue. A tremor raced along him and through her as he framed her face with his hands. His kisses were feverish with craving as he brought her up to sit between his knees.

  The hooks along the back of her gown fell away before his eager fingers. Rising to kneel in front of him, she smiled as she let her dress drop into a pool of silk on his legs. She loosened her stays and tossed them aside. Her eyes closed when he ran his fingers along her bared breasts, cupping them in his broad palms. Bending toward her, he tasted her sensitive skin.

  “Hamilton,” she whispered, unable to say more when she was ablaze with the need that was becoming an agony.

  With a low laugh, he drew her trembling fingers to his cravat. Her attempts to undo it were hampered by his frenzied kisses. Throwing it and his collar aside, she opened the front of his shirt to reveal the firm skin she had imagined caressing so often.

  “A moment,” he murmured as he pulled off his coat and kicked off his shoes. Removing his wai
stcoat, he added, “I vow I would not have been a slave to fashion tonight if I could have guessed you would make me a slave of the passion I long to rouse within you.” The devilish glow returned to his eyes as he grasped her hands and brought them to the buttons of his breeches. “Or shall I make you my slave tonight?”

  “Hamilton, teach me what I need to know.”

  He brushed her hair aside and nibbled the curve of her shoulder. In a voice thick with craving, he whispered, “My pleasure, my sweet, my pleasure.”

  Recklessly, she undid the buttons on his breeches. Her breath caught as he stepped out of them, and she saw the most virile angles of his body. She brought him back down into the bed and gasped when each wiry hair across his chest stroked her. Meeting him, mouth to mouth, she became lost in the roiling sensations as he slid her silk stockings along her legs. Her back arched to keep him close to her when he removed the last of her clothes.

  As if he had never touched her before, he began a slow exploration of her, his mouth lingering against her skin while she writhed with ungovernable longing. His hand slid along her hip to her knee, then edged along the inside of her thigh. She clutched his shoulders as the rapture became unbearable and his fingers sought higher.

  “Feel how much I want you,” he breathed against her skin.

  She could not answer. Words had lost all meaning. She pressed against him as he initiated her to the enchantment within her own body. Each motion, each touch, each kiss threatened to consume her. Caught in a vortex, she opened her eyes to see him rising above her. She slipped her arms around him, bringing his mouth back to hers as he brought them together.

  The raging storm whirled around her … through her … and through him. They were one in the ecstasy. When the explosion ignited within her, she heard his gasp. She knew, with her last, coherent thought, that the splendor of this moment was well worth whatever it might cost her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Something tickled Nerissa’s nose, drawing her out of her luscious dream of Hamilton holding her close. She brushed it away and burrowed back into the pillow. Mayhap if she did not open her eyes, she could recapture the delight.