Hetty, about to leave the room swung around. “You knew?”
“I did. That first day. When I saw how he looked at you.”
“You don’t find it surprising that a baron should wish to marry a poor man’s daughter?”
“Poor? Your father is very careful with his money, but he is far plumper in the pocket than he makes out, Hetty.”
Startled, Hetty remembered the dowry. “I had no idea. We live comfortably but simply in Digswell.”
“That is your father’s preference. But he might be called a nabob. He made a good deal of money with the East India Company while in India.”
“Father a nabob? I can’t believe it!”
“Nevertheless, it is true. The Cavendish family is a very old and important family even if we do not hail from its upper echelons. You are quite sure your baron is wealthy?”
“His father lost properties during the Revolution and Guy’s estate, Rosecroft Hall, is sorely in need of renovation. But he appears to have the money to repair it.”
Aunt Emily scooped up the gray cat at her feet and followed Hetty up the stairs. “It doesn’t matter, my dear. I’m quite sure he loves you.”
Hetty didn’t care if Guy was as poor as a church mouse. “I am looking forward to seeing the house tomorrow.”
Her aunt paused, a hand on the banister. “It’s regrettable that I cannot see it, too. We plan to discuss Coleridge’s poem Kubla Khan. He wrote it in ’97, but he reserved it for private readings until this year when Lord Byron persuaded him to publish it. Such a pity you’ll miss it.” She paused for breath at the top of the stairs. “I trust you to act with decorum tomorrow, Hetty. I expect there will be someone there to show you around the house.”
“I daresay, Aunt.” Hetty hoped there wasn’t. She needed time alone with Guy. Almost losing him had frightened her, and she sensed there was something else he wasn’t telling her.
*
Despite the joy of an emotional reunion with his sister, Guy felt drained when he walked through the door of his temporary home in Berkley Square. He and Genevieve had reminisced about their childhood memories. Genevieve was appalled at what Vincent had done but was still sad that she’d been unable to attend his burial. She expressed her approval of Guy’s choice of bride. “You could not do better than Hetty, Gee,” she said.
Guy agreed. He hoped he would live to enjoy what promised to be a wonderful life.
Strathairn’s butler approached him at the door. “My lord, a parcel arrived for you today.”
Mystified, Guy tore off the paper. Inside were his evening coat, hat, and cane. A letter written in Lord Taylor’s bold strokes explained that Guy’s coat and hat had been left in a cupboard and overlooked by the maids until recently. He and Lady Taylor hoped all was well with him and that next time he visited them he would come to say goodbye before departing into the night and worrying all those who cared for him.
Guy shook his head and went to join John in the library.
His friend spun the bronze tiepin in his fingers. “It would be smart for you to wear this eagle pin when you meet with Count Forney.”
Guy looked at it with distaste.
“We have reason to believe the secret code they use might be Longwood,” John said. “The house on Saint Helena where Napoleon has been incarcerated.”
Guy raised his brows. “So, I’m to visit him and use that word?”
“Yes and declare yourself to be one of them. Once you are drawn into his group, we will make our move.”
“I may not be admitted a second time.”
“I doubt you’ll be turned away. But if he refuses, send the tie pin to him.”
Something tugged at Guy’s memory.
The door opened, and Georgina entered. “You wished to see me, John?”
Guy stood, ready to excuse himself.
“No, stay, Guy,” John said. “We shall need to speak further.” He beckoned Georgina into the room. She came to stand in front of him, unusually meek with her hands clasped together. She glanced at Guy. “What became of you at the ball, Guy?”
“Never mind quizzing Lord Fortescue, Georgina. His activities do not concern you. As you are no doubt aware, I have received a morning visit from Julian, His Grace, the Duke of Broadstairs, who has requested your hand in marriage.”
Georgina gave a confident smile. “And what did you tell him?”
“That at seventeen, you are too young.”
Her face fell. “No! You didn’t,” she cried. “You wouldn’t! I am eighteen in three months’ time.”
John grinned. “Everything you wish for falls into your lap, does it not? I’m sure it is not good for your character.”
Georgina rolled her eyes. “Pooh! See how he teases me, Guy?”
John smiled. “I told him the marriage can take place when you turn eighteen.”
“Then I am betrothed?”
“It would seem so. He will call tomorrow, no doubt, with a handsome betrothal ring.”
Georgina squealed in delight. She kissed her brother on both cheeks. “You are a beast. I shall be glad to leave home.”
She turned to Guy. “I shall kiss you, too, Guy. I am so happy!”
Before her brother could protest, she had kissed Guy’s cheek and flounced toward the door.
When it closed, John shook his head. “I’m fond of my sister. But I’ll be relieved to hand her to Broadstairs.”
“Does she love the duke?”
“I imagine so. She’s been busy making him jealous for some months.”
Guy laughed.
“Now…” John turned serious. “Any questions?”
“You’ve jogged my memory,” Guy said. “Something Forney mentioned that I thought odd at the time. He said he enjoyed England when the shadows in the wood grow long.”
“Longwood!” John’s eyes gleamed. “That confirms the password! We have the wolf by the ears! We’ll get him and the whole pack along with him.”
“Preferably before they get me,” Guy said with a grimace.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I have the key.”
Guy led Hetty up to the front door of an impressive house in South Audley Street. Doric columns flanked the doors with a pretty fan-shaped window above.
Hetty took a deep breath as she looked at the handsome man beside her. An hour spent alone with him was enticing.
Guy unlocked the door and led her into the marble hall where elegant stairs curved away to the upper floors.
“It’s very grand.” Hetty’s hushed voice echoed around the lofty space.
Guy took her hand and led her through the empty rooms. Then they mounted the stairs to the upper stories.
“This is the drawing room.” He threw open a door.
Crimson silk walls rose above the dark polished wood of the wainscoting, rising to a high plaster ceiling. The Adam fireplace was of white marble. Tall French windows opened onto the garden. She crossed the bare boards to inspect the magnificent carved fireplace. “I can imagine it furnished.”
“That will be your domain.” Guy gazed down at her. “How pretty you look today. The lilac suits your hair.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t say red hair.”
“I have learnt my lesson.”
She reached up and touched the cleft in his chin. “The first of many.”
He pulled her against him. “That sounds threatening.”
She laughed. “It’s only fair to warn you.”
He tilted up her chin. “Ah, but you are not fair.”
“Why am I not?”
“The way you look at me when I want you so.”
Her hand at his nape, she pulled him down for a kiss.
“Hetty,” he murmured when they parted. “Don’t torture me. Let’s examine the rest of the house.”
She smiled and took his arm. “Yes, I’d love to.”
Guy threw open another white and gold paneled door. “This will be our bedchamber.”
Hetty found it di
fficult to breathe. The room was empty of furniture but was carpeted in the pinks and blues of a rosy dawn. Another handsome fireplace where she could visualize flames crackling cozily in the grate as they lay in bed together. The thought thrilled her.
She pressed her hands together and gazed up at her handsome fiancé.
Hetty was determined to have Guy make love to her today. Her breath quickened as she walked to the window. “We overlook the garden.” She pulled off her lilac pelisse and kid gloves and began to untie her bonnet strings.
Guy came to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “What are you doing, Hetty?”
“I’m a trifle warm.”
Aunt Emily wished her to act with decorum, but her aunt wished she’d experienced love with the man she adored. It seemed to Hetty that Aunt Emily compensated for a life not lived by immersing herself in poetry.
Hetty turned into his arms. She reached up to slide a black lock back from his forehead as his eyes roamed her face.
So much had happened. It seemed irrational, but Hetty feared he’d be snatched away from her. He was tense, she could sense it when she touched him, and she wondered why. He was withholding something from her. Perhaps if they became lovers, he might tell her, although she doubted he would listen to her and stay safe.
“Shall we view more of the house?” When he drew her away toward the door, she silently took his hand and tried to pull him down with her onto the dense carpet.
“What mischief are you up to, Hetty?” Guy said, removing his hand as if he’d been burned.
She sank down. “Lie with me.”
He shook his head, doubt in his eyes. “We should wait.”
Afraid he might not desire her after all, she tucked her legs beneath her, suddenly foolish.
Guy laughed and sat beside her. “I swear I’m never sure of what you’ll do next.”
Hetty hesitated. She wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed but determined they would not leave there today without making love. She trusted Guy to keep her safe from scandal. Now that she’d made up her mind, her senses were on fire. A twist of desire curled deep inside her.
Guy eyed her cautiously but kept some distance between them. She reached out to him. “Kiss me.”
He leant over and gave her a gentle kiss, pulled away, then with a soft moan, moved closer, and kissed her again. One kiss turned into many, and his tongue thrust against hers, teasing, taking. Desire built to a heavy throb low in her belly. Her nipples tingled.
He drew away. “You are playing a dangerous game, ma cherie.”
Something odd had happened to her breath, she was gasping, her heart pounding. “I know, but it’s worth it, isn’t it?” She ran a finger along his bottom lip.
Guy kissed her throat and untied the strings at the back of her gown to lower it, kissing the swell of her breast. A delicious ache spread over her breasts, and her nipples tightened into rigid buds.
She shivered with expectation at his deliberate movements. He seemed a different person as her shift was pulled down to expose her breasts. Suddenly shy, she put an arm across her breasts.
“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured huskily, removing her hand. He lowered his head and took a nipple in his mouth.
As exquisite sensations flooded through her, Hetty gasped and raked her fingers through his dark hair.
*
Guy couldn’t resist kissing her full creamy-skinned breasts. Lust slammed into his body as he cupped a firm globe and teased the taut nipple with his tongue. It tasted deliciously of woman with a delicate floral scent. But he could not let it go far. Not when he feared he may not live long enough to marry her. He’d already gone further than he intended. Her long slender legs enticed him, and a wicked voice in his head urged him to settle between them and make her his own. Her soft words of encouragement made him want her so much he had to fight not to take her right there on the carpet.
“Mon dieu!” he groaned. “We must stop this, Hetty.”
“What? No.” Her beautiful eyes were unfocused, which made his blood run hot.
As his last shreds of resistance slipped away, Guy pushed her back, his mouth sliding over hers. He nipped at her full under lip, evidence of her passionate nature.
When Hetty gazed deeply into his eyes, revealing the trust and respect she held for him, he pulled away, making a valiant effort at restraint.
“This is not going to happen,” he said, his voice hoarse while aware the evidence of his body made a mockery of his words.
“You’re trembling,” she whispered. “I don’t think you mean it.” She pressed herself ruthlessly against him, hip-to-hip, her hands sweeping over his back. He gave a strained laugh.
“Hetty, have mercy!”
He struggled to resist as hot blood surged through his body. His hand stroked up the soft skin of her inner thigh under her petticoats and located the soft feminine folds at the apex. Hetty’s body tensed, she flushed, and with a small sigh of pleasure, gave herself up to him.
With a moan, Guy stroked her hot damp flesh while she wriggled, uttering mews of pleasure. His free hand went to his breeches as desire drove him to mount her. They were panting with need, and his brain, turned to mush, ignored the danger.
There was a time when he would have taken her and worried about the consequences later. But not now. Surprised at how much he’d changed, and knowing his love for Hetty had changed him, he pulled his hand away from his breeches and focused on her enjoyment.
Hetty clutched at Guy’s shirt and emitted small shrieks as he continued his rhythmic stroking. “Guy, oh that’s so…”
She moaned, sank back, and opened her eyes.
Guy smiled at her. “It was agreeable, my love?”
Hetty’s eyes had a dreamy look, and her pink tongue toyed with her bottom lip. Guy struggled to inhale as he moved to ease the discomfort of his swollen shaft straining against his breeches. He wanted her so much he fought for air. Somehow, the bitter reminder had found its way through the fog of lust enveloping his mind. What he faced tomorrow. He could die and leave her unmarried and pregnant. Withdrawal was never a guarantee. He moved to put distance between them.
*
Guy’s deep groan vibrated through her. She bit her lip, contrite. When he jumped to his feet, she saw with a small measure of satisfaction how she had affected him before he turned away to adjust his clothing. “Get dressed, Hetty,” he said, his voice tight. “I shall be back in a moment. And then I think we should leave.”
Filled with an odd languor, Hetty struggled with the ties of her gown. Her muscles seemed to have gone to water. Tears gathered, and a sob formed in her throat. He had proved remarkably un-rake like. Was he disappointed in her?
She climbed to her feet and straightened her clothes. She was struggling with the ties on her gown when he returned.
“Let me assist you.”
She studied his face as he helped her into her pelisse. He was so handsome, so wonderful, and her behavior had been appalling. “Thank you.” Despite her best efforts her chest heaved, and her voice trembled.
Guy sighed and placed his finger beneath her chin to raise her gaze to his.
Hetty gave a sigh of relief at the amusement she found there. He touched his lips lightly to hers. “What motivated this attempt at seduction?”
“I’m afraid I’ll lose you, Guy,” she murmured. “That you’re not telling me everything.”
“You aren’t going to lose me,” he said and pulled her against him, his hand cupped her head as he took her lips in a long passionate kiss. “Sweetheart. I would like nothing better than to make love to you. But I know more about life than you do, so please, just once, will you let me take care of you?”
“But I wanted to give you pleasure,” she whispered.
“You think you didn’t?” He laughed and tucked a lock behind her ear and bent to give her another brief kiss. “I plan to make love to you in the proper manner. In our marriage bed.”
At those words, any ves
tige of remorse fled. “I remember the stories you told me–when you believed me to be a man–of making love in hay lofts, carriages, fields, and wasn’t there one incidence involving a table?”
Guy laughed. “You have changed me.” He shook his head. “I am not that man anymore.”
Guy was an honorable man, one of the things she respected and loved about him, but she didn’t want him to change from the passionate and thrilling lover described to her in the woodland hut. She was determined they would do all those things together because she wanted to eradicate the memories of his past lovers. Lords were known to take mistresses, but he would never wish for anyone but her.
She tied her bonnet ribbons firmly beneath her chin. “I’ve yet to see the dining room. I fancy a long table, with enough room for all our friends and family.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Guy left Hetty at her aunt’s home, he considered how his attitude to so many things had changed. He’d come to England with the somewhat arrogant intention of finding a bride to fit his station. He was even prepared to set up a mistress if he had no real affection for his wife. He’d suffered so much loss and heartbreak, he believed himself incapable of deep feeling for anyone and impervious to further hurt. Now his happiness depended upon an amber-eyed, willowy young woman who was far too spirited for her own good.
Hetty filled his mind, heart, and soul. It had been a great struggle not to take her as she lay there on the carpet inviting him to do so, her lush mouth made for kissing and her lovely body bared to his gaze. He didn’t fully understand why he hadn’t. Perhaps, because he sensed what lay behind her determination.
Hetty was troubled. Guy had been unable to fool her when he attempted to reassure her that that all was well. He was worldlier and far more conversant with the tragedy their making love might cause, and he would not take advantage of her vulnerability. As a young man, these thoughts would not have troubled him, but, now they did.
After dinner, Guy joined John in the library, where they discussed John’s time spent with Wellington during the Peninsular Wars, or at least what John would reveal. Much of what John was required to do during those years he’d probably never repeat to anyone. War left men scarred. Although John was a stalwart friend, Guy could only get so close until he came up against the wall John had built around himself.
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