Eva pulled back and looked into the pair of damp faces. “Please do not tell me there are other offspring from Father scattered about. I don’t think I can take any more surprises.”
Noelle shook her head and grinned. “I think we are the total of his children. Unless he had youthful indiscretions that bore fruit, he was completely devoted to your mother and to us girls. We were enough to keep him busy.”
Margaret sniffed and rubbed her face on her sleeve. “I think we are about to add to our family,” she said slyly. “A duke, if I am not mistaken.”
It took a blink to discover Abigail-Margaret was speaking of her duke. “I cannot wed him.”
Her sisters looked at each other. Noelle said, “Eva refused him. We shall see if he has the stamina to bring her to heel. I suspect His Grace is not easily cowed, if last evening is an indication. He will find a way to protect Charlotte and to have his duchess. Wait and see.”
“If only we all were so lucky in love,” Margaret said with a sigh as they soothed Eva’s concerns.
Later, Eva changed out of the soiled stable boy’s clothing and into a patched green dress that showed a hint of ankle. The borrowed too-large boots appeared with each step from beneath the high hem. The only slippers Mrs. Moore could produce were several sizes too small, so Eva clunked around the empty rooms, out of sorts and with much on her mind. She was without a mission or family to turn to, and far from home.
She missed her mother.
Caged in what was a once fine if modest home, she felt like an invisible observer of her own life; as if the twenty-three years of her existence were a dream. Everything she thought she knew about herself was now taken from her, and the narrow gray view in which she saw her life had widened into bright color and light, all because of a vengeful duke and a pair of curious sisters.
She wanted to go to Nicholas and throw herself on his chest. Unfortunately, it was not a good idea to spend much time in his presence. Harold saw to his care, and she’d check on him when he was sleeping. She worried that she’d take one look deep into his eyes and beg him to wed her. Or bed her.
Either was unacceptable.
It was Mother’s image that kept her feet from walking along the hallway to his door. Charlotte was, as always, her priority.
“Eva?” Noelle appeared at the top of the stairs. She was breathless. “Come quickly, His Grace has taken a turn.”
Eva gathered her skirts and raced up the stairs, tripping in her haste. She ran past Noelle, then shoved through the open door. Her heart pounding, she hurried to the bed, expecting to find him near death. Instead, he was sleeping peacefully, a slight flush on his face. She bent and put her hand to his head. The skin was warm but not hot.
Confused, she turned to Noelle. “He has no fever.” Nicholas stirred.
“I never said he did.” Noelle backed out the door, slammed it shut, and a click followed. Eva hurried to the panel and twisted the handle, but the lock held fast.
“Noelle, open this door at once!” she called. The response was a soft giggle, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. “Noelle!”
Chuckles came from the bed. She discovered Nicholas staring at her, amused. “I see you are pleased,” she snapped.
Eva was deathly weary of the manipulations of those around her, as well intentioned as they might be. She looked around the room to see if there was an object with which to break the lock. There was nothing but a tray of food on a table beside the bed, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
Obviously her captivity had been carefully orchestrated and was intended to be long in duration. “Were you involved in planning my imprisonment, Your Grace?”
He grunted as he changed position. “I am as innocent as a suckling babe,” he said with a wink. “Though I cannot say I am disappointed to share a cell with you, love.”
“Hmm.” She shot him a skeptical look. “You, Your Grace, may not have been involved in Noelle’s scheme, but you are no innocent. Many times I have been a victim of your less than innocent actions.”
His half smile dissolved into a lecherous grin. “Indeed?” He held up the sheet to expose himself down to his navel and the dark hair trail leading farther south. “Join me, and I will put my vast experience to good use.”
The man had been shot less than a day before, and yet he managed to think with the part of his anatomy thankfully still hidden under the sheet. He was so very male, and cut from the same cloth as all men. They could find a stiff wind blowing up their trouser legs arousing.
“I think it best if you concern yourself with getting well, Your Grace.” She narrowed her lids. “I plan to return to London by the end of the week, with or without you.”
He dropped the sheet. “My heart is wounded. What a cold wench you are, Miss Winfield. You’ve thrown my proposal back at me, then refused a dying man a last few moments to escape the inevitable call of death.”
“Death?” She scrutinized him from top to bottom.
For a man close to death, he was looking remarkably well. “Harold assures me the wound was in the muscle and missed all important organs. If you rest, you should be fit in a few days and ready to travel to Collingwood House. Then you can seduce half the women of London without fear of dropping dead.”
“Had you proposed such rampant seduction a few weeks ago, I might well have considered the idea as having merit.” He caressed his gaze down her body. “Unfortunately, a dowdy spinster has captured my attention. I desire no other. Now, if I can convince her to become my duchess, I will be content.”
The warmth in his eyes and the affection in his words melted her insides. Why did life have to become so muddled? Why couldn’t she slip beneath the sheet and let him do with her what he wished? It wasn’t as if she’d not been naked and writhing beneath him several times. But this was different. Emotions added to the mix made for difficulties she couldn’t ignore. The business between a duke and his courtesan was the sharing of bodies without love. His desire to wed her had knocked her off her feet.
And there was no convincing him of his mistake.
“I cannot, and I will speak no more of it,” she said stubbornly, her emotions frayed. She was on the brink of launching herself headlong out the window onto the overgrown grass below. “You know, and must accept, the reasons for my refusal. It is best for all of us.”
He watched her with his incredible eyes, and she struggled to remain stoic. How she loved him!
“My noble and self-sacrificing spinster will give up a chance at happiness to save everyone around her from the ills of the world.”
“And what is wrong with taking care of my family? Is it wrong to protect my frail mother? She became a courtesan because she had no family, no one to help her after her aunt died. But she has me now, and I’ll not fail her.”
Nicholas pondered her statement before answering. “Nothing is wrong with protecting her, love. I admire you because of your devotion.”
Unsure of what to do next and rendered speechless, Eva waited. Finally, he patted the bed. “If these are to be our last moments alone, I ask you to grant me one last wish: that I may spend these moments of our captivity holding you in my arms.”
This was one wish she could grant. She gave him a shaky smile, strode to the bed, and kicked off her boots. He eased her down beside him and pulled her gently into his arms.
Careful not to jostle the bandage, she snuggled against his chest. Immediately, his warmth and essence infused her. She pressed her cheek to the light dusting of hair on the broad expanse and inhaled his spicy scent. He nuzzled his face tenderly into her hair. No further words were needed.
Sunset cast a myriad of lights over the white plaster wall above the bed as Eva stirred and opened her eyes at the sounds of excited voices drifting up from below. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep in Nicholas’s arms until he stirred beside her and slid an arm around her waist. The noise had pulled him from slumber, and his eyes opened, too.
“What is happening?” he
asked, yawning, and rubbed a palm over one eye. His hair was tousled and scattered around his face. Her heart flipped.
“I don’t know.” She eased from the bed and crossed to the window. A huge coach pulled by six matching bays thundered to a stop before the house. She could see her courtesans, her sisters, and Harold, as well as several others she didn’t recognize, lingering on the stoop. It looked like the entire household had come out to welcome the guest.
A thin footman in blue and silver livery climbed down from his perch and opened the door. A woman descended beneath a flurry of feathers dancing on her wide lavender hat, and went directly to Harold. She gave him her hand and he bowed over it as a proper gentleman should. Eva smiled.
“Do you plan to leave me curious, or will you tell me what you’re staring at?”
Eva screwed up her face. “It is a woman. She must be of the nobility. She has the trappings of wealth.” It wasn’t the woman who drew her curiosity, but the tall man tucking her hand beneath his arm. “Harold is a servant no more,” she said more to herself than to Nicholas. He carried himself with a bearing she’d never noticed before. Though an impoverished baron, he’d been raised befitting his birth. She tried but failed to imagine him laughing and dancing at the Pennington ball.
“Enough about Harold,” Nicholas scolded, impatience raising his voice. “Tell me about the woman.”
Eva turned back to the visitor. “I cannot tell the color of her hair, but she is petite. She is wearing a lavender hat, and it appears that her gown matches the deeper purple of the plumes.”
He released a harsh breath. She turned to face him and frowned. “What do you expect, Your Grace? I can’t see her face,” she said tightly. “My view is limited by the distance and the angle of this window. Perhaps you would like to hobble over and see for yourself.” When he appeared to take her comment as an invitation, she pointed her finger at him. “Don’t you dare get out of that bed.”
His Grace slumped back and crossed his arms. Satisfied, she returned her attention below. The household members had gone inside. All that was left was the coach and servants. “The footmen are clad in blue and silver, and a full half dozen bays are pawing up Harold’s drive. There is some sort of crest on the side that I cannot make out. It looks like a stag, and a dog?”
Eva pursed her lips. She’d never seen a crest with a dog. It was an odd pairing of a deer and a canine.
“It’s a wolf and a stag,” Nicholas said, his voice tense. She peered over her shoulder and saw his face tighten. The woman was not unknown to him. She was certain of it.
“Do you know that woman?” she asked, and a thrill of jealousy prickled her spine. Though she hadn’t had a good look at her, Eva was fairly certain the stranger wasn’t Miss Banes-Dodd, and there was no reason for anyone else to know Nicholas was here.
Did he have a lover she didn’t know about? Had he sent a message to her in hopes she would carry him back to London and her bed? Or was this visit unrelated to him?
“Nicholas? Tell me.”
He met her gaze, and his eyes were troubled. “I know her very well. She’s my mother.”
Chapter Twenty
Your mother?” Bile burned Eva’s throat. She was locked in a room with her lover while his mother, the dowager duchess, lingered below, in the company of a houseful of former courtesans. And not a one of them was discreet.
By the time Her Grace made it through the house and up the stairs, everything they knew about Eva and Nicholas would be laid out in vivid color for her perusal.
A whoosh echoed in her ears, and she felt light-headed. Had the window not been only two floors up, she’d consider climbing over the sash and jumping to her death. But at that height, she couldn’t count on a fatal injury.
“Do something,” she beseeched Nicholas, frantic.
“What can I do?” He didn’t hide his amusement. His mouth twitched, and crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. “I’m injured and also imprisoned. I fear we will just have to wait for the duchess to mount a rescue.”
The level of strain in her head threatened to turn Eva’s mind to mush. She’d never met a duchess, much less the mother of a suitor. Though she hesitated to call Nicholas a suitor, she was his lover, and should be kept carefully hidden from his noble mother. Her Grace wouldn’t be pleased to have their scandalous relationship flaunted in front of her. She’d likely snatch Nicholas from the bed and drag him back to London by his ducal ear.
“A duchess. I am about to be shamed by a duchess.” Eva paced, as she’d done many times of late, and it had yet to offer her any solutions to her problems. “Who sent for her? Harold? Noelle? This would be just like Noelle. But what could she gain by bringing the duchess here? This will end badly, I know it will.”
“My mother will not gobble you up, Eva,” Nicholas said drolly. “She gave up such pursuits a fortnight ago.”
Eva stopped. “I’m pleased you find this situation amusing, Your Grace.” She wanted to dissolve into tears. “She is your mother, I am your lover. We are locked up together in this chamber of sin. Certainly you can see why I find this state of affairs troubling.” She swung out her hands. “No mother wants to find her son injured, naked, with his whore.”
A low grumble burst from him, and he pushed up on his elbow. His eyes darkened. “Call yourself that again, Eva, and I will pull you over my lap and beat the word out of your vocabulary.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would. You are not a whore.” The words weren’t a casual threat. He was furious. “You are to be my wife and the mother of my children. You wouldn’t be the first woman to share a bed with her future husband before vows were said.”
“We are not engaged.”
Nicholas sighed. “Do you wish to argue with me about this again, or would you rather help me into my breeches before my mother finds me like this?” He shoved aside the blanket to expose a halfhearted erection.
“You—you—oh!” She gasp-laughed, and her mood instantly lightened. “I am about to throw myself from the window to avoid your mother, and you find our argument arousing?” She stomped over to the chair and retrieved his soiled breeches. She threw them at him, and he caught them against his chest. “I will never understand men.”
Pulling up a leg, he tried to slide his foot into the breeches. With the bandages around his waist, he couldn’t bend far enough to manage the feat. Pain etched his features.
“My dear Eva, it isn’t the argument that rousts my cock. Have you seen your delightful bum lately? Of course I’m aroused with your confounded hip swishing.” He bunched the breeches in his hand and indicated his erection. “Since our first painful kiss, this is a condition I suffer with regularity. I fear you are the only remedy to my illness.”
With a short, exasperated laugh, Eva moved to the bed and took the breeches. It was difficult to stay angry with him. With the thick bandage and his hair sticking up in patches around his head, he had a seldom-seen boyish quality she adored. His Grace was intensely aggravating but also entirely fascinating; the kind of man a woman could spend years and years with and never tire of the experience.
“If you think I’ll relieve your suffering now, with your mother below, you are mistaken. But I can help you dress.” She got onto her knees on the bed near his feet, and began the slow process of sliding the tight-fitting garment up his muscled legs. His cock twitched. Her mouth watered, and he grinned wickedly. She very much wanted to impale her body on it and ride him to a stunning release.
“If I guarantee a quick end, will you reconsider, love?” he said, and she wondered if he could sense the raw hunger seeping from her. One well-placed touch beneath her borrowed skirts and she would be lost.
“Lift your rump.” She ignored his plea. The desire to strip off the dress and join him grew to a painful ache. If she didn’t get him clothed soon, his mother’s discovery of them, Eva’s ankles about her ears and Nicholas pumping away in her like a randy stallion, was a di
stinct possibility.
He scowled, and did as asked. She tugged and pulled, and had managed to get all but his raging erection covered when the sound of a key rattled in the lock. With his hurried help, she got his breeches over his cock a second before the door swung open and Her Grace walked in, Harold and Noelle at her heels.
Panicked, Eva jumped to her feet to hide him behind her skirts as he jerked the blanket over his lap.
Clearly, the duchess thought they were up to mischief. Her brows went up, and something akin to dark humor tugged at her mouth. “Perhaps we should return later, Nicholas?”
Eva’s face burned. The only thing worse than actually being caught in a compromising situation with Nicholas was for his mother to think she’d interrupted said situation. She wanted to explain the innocence of her actions, but her throat had closed off and she was struck mute.
Thankfully, Nicholas came to her rescue. “Miss Winfield was kind enough to help me with my breeches, Mother. I didn’t want to injure your sensibilities with my nudity.”
Pained, Eva squelched a groan. This was helpful?
“Hmm.” The duchess ran a quick glance over her son, as if to check his condition, then crossed to Eva. Her Grace perused her face and dipped her gaze briefly downward to the shabby gown. Her lids narrowed slightly. “You are the Miss Winfield who so ensnared my son at the ball?” Eva nodded soberly. “I was disappointed we missed an introduction. I went home early with a headache.”
Doubtless the headache had been caused by watching her son flirt with a woman far beneath them in every way. Her Grace had expected that her son would be engaged that evening, and Eva’s presence had ruined her plans. How she must hate her!
Twisting her hands together, Eva softly said, “I do apologize for the pain my actions may have caused at the ball, Your Grace,” and averted her eyes from the duchess’s lovely face. She turned a pleading glance at Noelle, who shrugged helplessly. “And I also apologize for last evening. It was never my intention for your son to be hurt.”
The School for Brides Page 24
