Defying the Earl

by Anabelle Bryant

  “Curious?” he persisted, with a hint of provocation.

  “You imply that I care.” Her usual tetchy retort was less than a whisper. How had he melted her anger into the warm, comfortable emotion that now wrapped around her better sense?

  “Oh, but you do.”

  His words skittered across her skin and she shivered no matter she heated from the inside out. “I do not.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  How he baited her. “It’s considered rude to contradict a lady.” Her retort was more purr than reprimand.

  “Etiquette be damned.”

  He drew her to him, deep into the shadows of the gazebo, before his husky murmur had finished, his head angled to the left, his mouth a whisper away. Her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. But he did not finish the distance to bring the kiss to life and her face heated. Had she misjudged his intention? She opened her eyes the slightest. He stared at her with dark intensity, as if he sought to find something in her eyes but she could not fathom for what he searched.

  Before she could decipher his meaning his hand moved from her arm to her shoulder, sliding over her sleeve in a possessive caress. Did he mean to anchor himself to her or steady her step, for surely she swayed with the onslaught of emotion spinning her out of control? She withdrew in confusion, and he pursued, his mouth capturing hers, hard and demanding. He wanted her. It was the last thought she grasped before reason and resistance evaporated.

  Chapter Nine

  Why had he hesitated? One touch of Wilhelmina’s silken mouth drenched his senses with awareness; she tasted like a coveted delicacy, sweet and all consuming, with the ability to ruin one’s desire for any future delectation. Her feather-soft lips as refreshing as a springtime sun shower, the delicate murmur of her enjoyment more powerful than the loudest thunder, and her feminine scent, part lemon, part gardenia, sent a rush of desire straight to his groin.

  Somehow her kiss vanquished the heavy burden of malaise, the somber emotion having clung to him since discovering the dire seriousness of his future.

  He knew the moment she melted, felt her gentle shudder the instant she gave herself over to the kiss, and the knowledge burned through each layer of indifference, every wall of rejection, finding his heart despite he’d rather have kept it hidden.

  Her lips on his were a lightning bolt to the heart, sparking it back into rhythm. What power did she possess to evoke emotion long lost, dead and buried?

  When she offered no resistance, he deepened the kiss, her soft warmth turning his body to stone, yet awakening him all the same. He drank in the renewal she offered. He never wished to leave.

  With hesitancy, she raised her gloved palms and skimmed his shoulders. Did she mean to separate them or hold them joined? He locked her closer, unwilling to consider ending their embrace; one hand anchored at the small of her back, the gentle arch of her spine perceivable through multiple fabrics, and his imagination burst with images of Wilhelmina, bare and beautiful in his arms, in his bed, an invitation to pleasure and so much more.

  She shifted the slightest, the weight of her breasts pressing against his chest, causing his heart to stutter. Had she resuscitated the dormant organ to now stop its beat altogether?

  Somehow, through the haze of pleasure, sensibility warned he shouldn’t be kissing her. The realization had nothing to do with security or debt or financial ruin. Still with each passing breath, his control slipped another notch, desire demanding full attention. How easily he might spin out of control and lose a part of himself, lose all power to recover. The lady gave no signs of objection, quite the opposite to his surprise, but the truth of the situation managed to struggle to the surface, fracturing his longing with the force of awareness.

  Were a party guest to stumble upon their unexpected embrace, no reason or excuse would suffice. He’d be altar-bound by morning, and while Whimsy peaked his curiosity, his eager body in full agreement, the grave conclusion was too stark to ignore. Wilhelmina deserved better than a pauper for a husband. He wanted her, but to what end?

  He disengaged from their kiss with curt efficiency and ignored the catch in his breathing. “I should leave.”

  The words couldn’t ring more true. Were someone to happen upon them alone in the garden, never mind kissing, the worst gossip would destroy her reputation, and ruin any chance at building her business as a discreet matchmaker; one more adept at bringing together the affections of others than understanding the expression of her own heart.

  Yet this kiss, his kiss…she had no words to explain the exhilarating pleasure found in Dashwood’s embrace. The touch of his mouth upon hers instigated a pulse of excitement that thrummed in her veins demanding attention despite his immediate dismissal.

  More than a little confused, she mumbled her agreement. “I could never bring embarrassment to my aunt’s doorstep. She has shown my sister and me generosity and kindness.”

  “And your sister, shall I make her acquaintance this afternoon as well?” His voice sounded close to normal.

  “My sister is unwell.” The admittance ended all conversation and after a long silent moment with nothing more than a curt nod, Wilhelmina backed her way out of the arbor and left straightaway.

  Afraid to confront the jumble of emotions bombarding her, she returned to the main house where several guests shared a luncheon on elaborate tables set in a shady copse of a few walnut trees. She scanned the crowd for her quarry, but Leonard and Fiona were nowhere to be seen. A hitch snagged her breathing at the thought one or both might have left the gathering. What was wrong with her? She had a definitive goal and a relationship to repair before she could ever consider success, and yet the recurring echo of Valerian’s playful banter and breathtaking kiss repeated like a litany inside her brain. She closed her eyes as if to force the images into hiding and then opened her eyes wide and examined the crowd.

  It wasn’t until she spotted Leonard and Fiona in the distance, walking the perimeter of the shuffleboard area and engrossed in conversation did she relax. She couldn’t tell if they were amiable or argumentative, but at least they were together. Then, only then, did the thunderous beat of her heart calm.

  “Livie, what is this? When did you receive these letters? Who are they from?” Wilhelmina reached for the pile of ivory sheets tied with an ivory ribbon resting near the headboard of the bed, but her sister snatched the pile out of reach.

  “These are personal.” She smiled as if to soften the blow of her refusal. “I’m sorry, Whimsy, but my letters are nothing I care to share.”

  The response was entirely unlike Livie, and her reluctance to add to the mysterious statement fueled Wilhelmina’s determination to uncover exactly what her sister was about. “Does Aunt Kate know about them? If she brings you the mail, then I’m the only person excluded from this knowledge.” Wilhelmina sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving her sister’s face. If there was a truth to be discovered, she would ferret out the information.

  “Posh with your suspicions.” Livie smiled as she tucked the letters under the second pillow at her back. She turned to face Wilhelmina with a calm, delighted expression, and not one of low-brow poor conscience as would be expected. “The letters are old remembrances from before we moved to London. I was reminiscing about our past life and thought I’d tucked them away better. There is no reason to belabor the subject with Aunt Kate because she knows as little as you do.” Apparently finished with her explanation, her sister reached for her cup of tea and busied herself with smoothing the satin trim of the coverlet near her waist.

  “Do you miss it very much? Living in the country?” Her question stalled Livie’s hands, but when their eyes met there weren’t any shadows of sadness to detect.

  “Actually, no. Not at all.” She quirked a quick smile before adjusting her spectacles. “It’s refreshing to be away from all the old memories of Mother and Father’s accident. I’d much rather begin anew. I saved these letters for a different reason. Mother knew about them. The letters a
re a happier memory amidst the tragedy of our past.”

  For brevity, Livie’s eyes lit with sorrow and she shuffled her legs under the blanket as if to secure they still worked as she commanded. Wilhelmina did not miss the movement. She released a long exhale and vowed to turn the subject to something lighter.

  “You needn’t look so dejected.”

  It was impossible to hide anything from Livie’s perspicacious eyes.

  “I’m sure you haven’t told me every iota of your personal affairs. While you’re off socializing in the name of matchmaking, you have surely accumulated a secret or two. Have you danced with a handsome gentleman? Shared conversation with a charming stranger?”

  An immediate image of Dashwood formed, his dark hair and devilish smile always at the ready when she dared to dream. But a dream it was all. No matter the topic of conversation they always seemed to be at odds, as if stepping into that mud puddle and dragging him down with her had set a tone that could not be erased any easier than the stains that ruined her silk slippers.

  “Look at that smirk. A gentleman has caught your fancy. Who is it, Whimsy? You must tell.” Her sister’s laughter overrode her demand and she leaned forward, placing her palm on Wilhelmina’s arm to entreat her confession.

  “I should hold the information hostage until you elaborate about that pile of letters. I thought we told each other everything.”

  “A nice sentiment, but one we’ve outgrown years ago. Although I daresay I enjoy sharing most everything with you, not that I lead a very interesting life.” Livie punctuated the statement with a short laugh and nudged her spectacles to the bridge of her nose. “Never mind my old letters. They are history, but this is your future. Do tell. I want to hear all about him, every detail and word.” A huge smile crossed her face, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

  “You make it sound far more exciting than it is, I assure you. I doubt the man in question has given me a second thought.” Wilhelmina busied herself with the folds in her skirt, arranging the fabric this way and that while her mind spun, attempting to formulate a sound explanation of how she felt toward Lord Dashwood and exactly what type of relationship they shared. It couldn’t be labeled friendship. Certainly not anything more, yet acquaintance didn’t ring true either, although it was the closest moniker that fit.

  “Please tell me what you’re thinking, Whimsy. Sometimes I languish here for hours with only my imagination for company.”

  The heartfelt confession stabbed a pain of regret straight through Wilhelmina’s heart. She’d been so preoccupied matchmaking, she’d neglected her sister. “I’m sorry, Livie. I’ve been so busy trying to succeed with Leonard and Fiona, I haven’t been home very much. But it’s all for the greater good.” She reached for her sister’s hand and stopped when her charm bracelet snagged a loose thread on the counterpane.

  “Here let me help you.” Livie bent forward and worked to free the charm. “There you are.” She didn’t release the bracelet immediately. “I wonder why Father chose this piece. The charms are rather fanciful, though they comprise a wonderful little assortment.”

  Livie touched each adornment with her fingertip as if counting them in kind. When she reached the empty loop where a charm had gone missing, her mouth fell into a disappointed frown.

  “I wonder what was here. When I was younger, Mother would sit on my bed and read and I would invent stories and wishes involving the charms.”

  “You did?” Wilhelmina laughed, her voice bright. “I did as well. Oh, we must share. What did you imagine for the little silver dove?”

  Wilhelmina laid her hand down on the counterpane, palm upward and spun the bracelet on her wrist until the dove charm lie over her pulse.

  “I would wish that I could fly above the highest clouds. I believed the dove symbolized freedom. How peculiar, when I had no idea someday I would be confined to this bed.”

  “Only temporarily, Livie, and you must believe it. Just the other day you ventured downstairs for tea with Aunt Kate. You’re growing stronger and healthier with each of Dr. Morris’ treatments. I won’t hear another word to the contrary and besides…” Wilhelmina touched the charm, a wry smile curling her lips. “I believed the dove to represent freedom of another kind; freedom of the heart perhaps or freedom to choose life’s path.” She spun the bracelet the smallest degree before her sister could comment. “And this one, the crown with the diamond chip, I fantasized it represented great riches. How good it would serve us now, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, well, we could still sell the bracelet. It is solid silver. Some of the charms have gem stones. Perhaps it has comparable worth.”

  Wilhelmina snatched her wrist back from where they’d both examined the bracelet. “No, I won’t consider it. Something deep inside tells me this bracelet is important, not just a sentimental reminder of Mother and Father. I can’t explain it, but I know it to be true. You’ll have to trust me in this.”

  “I do.” Livie reclined against the pillows at her back and sighed. “I only hoped to make things easier for you. No matter people often ask your advice and you’ve enjoyed your new-found friendships in society, I thought to alleviate the burden of this matchmaking scheme all put in motion for my welfare. I despair to cause Aunt Kate any financial burden but have only traded that worry for this one, where I force my sister into service.”

  “Dear Livie, those are some very big thoughts.” Wilhelmina couldn’t stifle her laughter. “I have enjoyed entering society and playing the role of Cupid.” The sharp memory of Fiona wrapping her arms around Dashwood’s neck intruded on her declaration and she shoved it to the side, focusing on Livie’s bright face. “Everything I have perpetuated is poised for a positive outcome. Whether to fund Dr. Morris’ treatments so you will continue to improve, to help Lady Rigby become a grandmother that much sooner, or to assist Leonard and Fiona as they find their way to true love. It is easy to see they adore each other. If only society and doubt wouldn’t intrude on their romance.” This time it was Dashwood alone who popped into her mind’s eye. Heaven, he was handsome. Clever too. But what was his role in all this? Friend to Leonard Rigby or perpetual annoyance?

  Her attention fell to the bracelet again; the filigree heart with silver and gold threads entwined around a small, perfectly formed ruby, lay across her wrist. It had always been her favorite charm, a companion to her cherished wish. She fancied the design to represent true love, the gem embraced by the duo of threads, as if male and female embraced. She’d entertained the daydream more times than she’d care to confess, although now, as she stared at it, strewn against her pulse, it appeared as if the heart was beating. Such nonsense. She flicked her eyes to Livie, but her sister reclined with her eyes closed, her mind busy with a daydream of her own.

  Valerian. Since their kiss, all waking moments were consumed with the dashing earl. His name caused a shiver of anticipation, chased by a melting desire to press her lips against his, to shred any trepidation lingering in her conscious. His mouth…well his mouth was the source of all her misery thus far. His poorly placed comments and trite criticisms. The intriguing man’s mouth was the core of all things devastating. Most especially, his kiss.

  Oh, the whimsy of it all. Wilhelmina rose from the bed with a silent sigh and tiptoed from the room not wishing to disturb Livie asleep on the pillows.

  Chapter Ten

  “I need to leave London.” Valerian threaded his fingers through his hair in an act of frustration before he pulled an empty valise from under the bed in the guestroom of Beaufort’s town house.

  “Why would you do that? You’ve hardly had any fun,” Jasper objected, his tone pointed, no matter his words contradicted.

  “We’re not here to have fun, Jasper. Lest you forget we’ve come to perpetuate opportune devastation and break apart otherwise blissfully, besotted couples. But never fear it’s not a case of conscience that has brought this decision to bear.” Valerian flipped the lid of the case open and moved toward the dresser. “I received a lett
er from Turner this morning. A portion of the kitchen roof has collapsed and the carpenter will no longer accept our credit. I either return home to repair it myself or somehow convince the man we’re closer to funds than when he rebuilt the front door framework and I promised prompt payment and never delivered.”

  “No wonder you’re in high dudgeon. How dare the carpenter react so irrationally?” Jasper dropped into the wingchair near the hearth and slid easily from one subject to the next. “I suppose it does no good to mention he overcharges? His fees are too smoky by half.” He settled further into the chair, his shoulders eased in relaxation, legs crossed at the ankles. “You’d do better to hire Old Tabby. People regard him as a loose screw, but as a workman, he’s dependable. That distasteful rumor concerning faulty bridge construction was put into play by Widow Bartleton after Tabby refused to escort her to the May Day gathering last spring. It proved pure rubbish; the rumor that is, not the gathering.” He took a much needed breath before continuing his string of nonsense. “A collapsed roof? Leave it to a few shingles to throw a rub in the way of our holiday.”

  “Jasper—” Valerian slammed the lid on his valise and pivoted to face his brother whose eyes flared wide. “Never was this a holiday.”

  “Not by my standards, at least, in that you’re correct. I’ve hardly had the time to kick up a lark. But you’d have to admit things were proceeding swimmingly.” He reached to the bed and plucked a throw pillow from the counterpane to slide behind his head. “Staying rent-free at Beaufort’s and frequenting the worldly trumpery of London’s uppity has done wonders for my morale. Not to forget the guaranteed benefits…”

  “Jasper!” Exasperation sharpened his tone to a knife’s edge. “Have you learned nothing from your succession of failed ventures, gambling debts, and shady associations, all which have caused our near ruin? When will the truth lock into place and you realize this is no joking matter?”