by Gayle Eden
“Nor did I. But he is a handsome man, and I was not blind.”
Lisette got to her feet, pacing a little, a smile of absorbing all of it on her lips. “Is that why he is so changed. Why he is taking up his duties and…”
“No. I doubt it. He has simply come to his senses.”
“Lovers.” Lisette sighed. She sat down again and regarded haven for long silent moments before murmuring, “I never thought you’d fall for a rake. Even if he is my brother.”
“Nor did I. Trust me, it was not smooth going. But we were—are—attracted.”
“Good Lord. I was so wrapped up in Mama thrusting Marston under my nose. I was not there for you. I wasn’t even there for you when you found out about your mother.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Haven grinned at her. “We were both going through something. What matters to me is that you understand and don’t think less of me.”
“Of course I don’t. I love you.” Lisette insisted. “I think you’re daft for falling at Deme’s feet…”
“It wasn’t exactly like that.” Haven put in dryly.
“I’ll wager not.” Lisette chuckled. “You know, now that I think on it. I did notice him looking at you, and had I not been trying to avoid the Viscount, I’m sure I would have seen it.”
“Everyone else seems to have.”
“Well, so you are his mistress?”
“Lover. You brother doesn’t keep or support me.”
Lisette was intrigued now. “Is it—exciting?”
“Being lovers.”
“That and the—other.”
Haven flushed. “It’s amazing.”
Lisette sighed. “I envy you. I always thought I would have an adventures life. We were raised with every reason to believe we did not have to conform. I mean, look who my parents are?” Lisette chuckled. “I do not really understand why I’m the one expected to have a conventional match. I would much rather have a dashing lover and live a grand adventure.”
Haven knew that from those talks back when Lisette was ill and in the sick room for months on end. To the other, she said, “I didn’t set out to be his lover. I didn’t plan or dream of—whatever it is we have.”
“But you are content with it?”
“Um. I do not think that fits either. I want to be with him. That’s all that I can say.”
“And he wants you. He must, because we have all noticed how different he is. He’s still an arse at times, but mama was saying, it was as if he returned changed, in a good way—still charming, still a bit of a rogue, but he’s more serious about life.”
“I don’t think that’s my doing.” Haven stood and walked over to her gloves and cloak.
Standing too, Lisette was waiting for her to don them as they could hear the hall clock gong. She offered, “Whatever becomes of it—and if that brother of mine is wise, he will see what a wonderful person you are—but whatever happens, we’re always friends. You’re like a sister to me.”
“Thank you.”
They embraced for a moment and then stepping back, Lisette snickered, “We clean up pretty well, you and I, for two females who run around in trousers and can likely out shoot half the chaps in England.”
Haven laughed too and said, while they headed out the door. “If they only knew. Remember the time I was teaching you to handle the ribbons and you dropped them. We were screaming our bloody heads off just watching the buggy and team take us toward the lake.”
Arm in arm, they descended the stairs, Lisette crowed on a chuckle, “God, yes. I decided we should jump, and you did first. Wise. Since I waited a moment too late. The team turned and I was tossed right into the icy water.’
Their laughter rang out and reached the Marquis, and the Graces awaiting them below. They were still smiling, when mid-way, Haven caught sight of Deme. He stood on the other side of his mother, dressed in formal black and white, holding a cape over his arm, his hat and cane in his hand. Her knees got a bit weak noting how his shorn hair drew attention to the gorgeous bones of his face. It was tapered against his nape, short around his ears, with the curl there but not hiding his jaw line. It fell over his right temple in a way that was roguishly attractive.
She hardly knew she had stopped, nor that Lisette was eyeing her amused, and so too was the Duke and Duchess, who noted Deme’s, eyes fixed on her.
It was the sound of Lisette’s heels on the stairs, realizing she was walking on without her, that got Haven’s feet moving again. Her cape and skirt hem dragged on the step behind as she held her hem enough to walk to the bottom.
“Ravishing,” the Duke said.
“I could not have chosen better myself.” The Duchess announced cheerfully. “Haven, my dear, you are a vision. The gossips will have their mouths hanging open all night.” She laughed.
Deme, their gazes held, murmured, “I forgot to breathe…”
Swallowing, and more than thrilled, she told him, “I like your hair that way.”
“Yours is lovely.”
Lisette giggled.
The Duke cleared his throat.
Haven flushed but Deme merely gave Lisette a wink before he was helping her on with her cape.
They were taking two coaches, and after the men had their hats on, their capes, they stepped out into a lightly snowing evening.
Haven glanced up before she got in the coach with Deme, Lisette would ride with the Duke and Duchess.
Her father in his green livery, caped coat, top hat and white scarf, was grinning down at her.
Deme was at her elbow and looked up at the man as he rested his gloved hand on her spine. “Thank you for allowing me to escort one of the loveliest women in England tonight.”
The coachman said, “Is that an official declaration of something?”
Ignoring Haven’s groan, Deme grinned and nodded his head respectfully. As the footman had the door open, and helped Haven in, he supplied, “Absolutely, sir. We shall speak on it later.”
Snug in the coach, hearing her father’s snap of the reins and command, Haven muttered, “Let’s not bring my father into this.”
He settled back, his hat brim glimmering from melting snow and the white silk scarf he wore enhancing his flushed skin. “Just remember your promise, Mulhern.”
She grunted. “Back to that, are we? The last time we were in this coach you called me Haven.”
His white teeth flashed wickedly. “Would that be when I was lying on the seat you were riding my mouth.”
She hissed, “My father may hear you. For God sakes.” And turned so red her eyes watered.
He was laughing his head off. It was filling the whole coach for several moments.
She finally kicked his skin.
He leaned down and rubbed the spot, his eyes glittering as they passed a lamppost. “My mouth is already watering thinking about it.”
She moaned and looked away from him.
He talked that way, teasing, sensual, all the way to the theater.
They stepped out amid carriages and a crush of people. Heads turned when Deme’s masculine laughter rang out again. Seeing the woman on his arm, everyone murmuring, and when she lowered her hood under the awning—it added even more fuel to the gossip fire.
Only Deme and Haven knew he had laughed because she had looked up as she alighted, obviously trying to make sure her father had not heard his intimate talk. It so amused, Deme, that he hardly knew how many people blinked at the attractive man he was, and the stunning couple they made, or that a few of his fly by night trysting partners eyed him an blinked as if they couldn’t believe their eyes and ears.
When they were caught up with the Duke and Duchess, Haven felt the woman pat her arm.
She leaned over and whispered before they headed to their boxes, “I just love to cause a stir.” And laughed. “Society should thank us, my dear. Without the Wimberly’s around, whatever would the sticklers do for excitement?”
Grinning, Haven watched her wink and then she and the Duke and Lisette were
heading to the Duke’s box.
She snickered when she recognized a tall dark figure heading for Lisette. Apparently, Lisette saw him too, for she turned her head and caught Haven’s eye, mouthing comically, BLOODY HELL!
It was slow going but they reached Deme’s box. She let him take her cape before seating her in one of the elegant chairs. He removed his own and saw to them, and then took the seat beside her.
Haven eyed the snowy cravat, his emerald stickpin, and again admired his haircut, the curl at the bottom of his ear, the blue-black sheen of it.
He caught her looking and leaned the short distance between them to whisper, “I like the feel of your eyes on me.”
Breathing in through her nose, Haven turned to look down at the stage though she soon lifted it, aware that tier after tier, box after box, there were eyes and opera glasses turned on herself and Deme.
He slid his chair a bit closer to her. She could almost hear a murmur and whisper start rising. Leaning over a bit, his lips brushed her ear.
She looked at him. “People are staring.”
He held her gaze. “Let them. I’m with the most beautiful woman here tonight.”
“I don’t think that is why.” She laughed on a sigh.
He raised a white gloved hand and caressed her jaw line. There was a distinct ripple of voices at that. Neither of them cared.
Deme told her when he dropped it, “I grew used to sharing a bed with you shockingly fast. I scarcely slept, and when I did, my dreams kept me aching.’
Her body reacted to that admission. Her heart pounded. The whole world could have vanished for all Haven noticed.
Their gazes went over each other’s faces, remembering intimacies, naturally feeling the urge lovers do, to touch, and kiss each other. She released a shaky breath and jerked her eyes away and back to the stage.
Deme saw the rise and fall of her breasts, the flush on her cheeks, and watched a little pulse beat at the side of her neck. He turned his eyes to the stage too, his body pushed beyond the brink between his very vivid dreams and the reaction to the vision she made tonight. Christ, that tease of her perfume when he had taken her cloak stirred him.
The music swelled and covered most of the whispers. Though they rose and fell often too. Each of them tried to focus on the play, and even Deme was aware of the people watching them. But time and again, their eyes found each other. He would touch her in the guise of leaning to whisper in her ear. That too was an excuse to put his lips on her skin. Both tense, aware of each other, by the intermission, they made their way to the Duke and Duchess’s box, talking, meeting those who came by to speak—many to gawk and get a better look at the rakehell Fielding and his mistress. The woman, most believed, who had captivated him as none ever could.
In some part of her calm mind, Haven was amused by it, aware the Duchess was having a grand time with it too.
She was exchanging a look with Lisette, who was preoccupied with the fact that her parents had invited the Viscount to their box tonight. Objectively Haven could see what an attractive a couple they made, the lithe and blond Lisette in her elegant sapphire and silver—the tall and craggy Marston, who stood just behind her, in formal black, his height and darkness, the brawn of him completely complimenting her friend.
However, aware of Lisette’s opinion, she accepted champagne that Deme handed her. Then gave Lisette’s hand a squeeze and whispered in her ear, “Did you tell him about the time you snuck into his Grace’s port and I found you watching one of the grooms bathing necked.”
Lisette laughed and muttering in her ear, “He wouldn’t see the humor in it. Although I must admit, I was shocked as you’ll recall—discovering he had dangly bits.”
Nearly snorting the champagne out her nose, Haven coughed and choked, “As I remember it, it was the size you were confused by. I believe we deduced that had it been similar to a horse’s—which you apparently expected—he would have never got his trousers to fit.”
Their laughter burst out full and throaty. It drew everyone’s attention in the box. Nevertheless, as she went to stand by Deme, following a wink to Lisette, Haven glanced at the silent Viscount and turned slightly red.
Something in his silver eyes told her, he had heard every word they had said.
Deme’s hand went around her waist. She basked in it whilst he finished a conversation with his father. It was about time to return to the box, when she leaned into that touch, subtly letting him know she was still in tune with his own desires.
In the box once more, they did much the same as the first time, talking now though, leaning to whisper things—that had nothing to do with the play.
When it was over, and the family was out all into the colder night, snow had blanketed the streets. The Duke and Duchess expressed a desire to join a party of particular friends. Deme insisted they take their coach, and he and Haven theirs. It was all done with everyone acting natural and pleased with the arrangement—as if it was not obvious the lovers could not very well have her father driving them to some intimate trysting spot.
While it was going on, the getting to separate coaches, Haven heard Marston offer to take Lisette to a more-to-her taste, gathering. The Duke gave consent. Thus, when the Viscount was escorting her by their coach, Lisette mouthed, “I shall escape.”
Chuckling, having seen that, Deme said when the coach pulled out, “She’ll get herself in bloody trouble sneaking off one of these days.”
“Lisette can take of herself. Don’t doubt for a moment she doesn’t have a stiletto in her garter.”
He guffawed, and they talked a bit more of the woman’s spirit and resistance, before he took off his hat and sat back asking her, “Would you like to see my townhouse or have a light meal at the hotel?”
“The first is more tempting, but the second is necessary.” She snorted. “Your mother’s maid insisted I couldn’t have more than tea and fit in this gown. That may be true, but I’m hearing my stomach over the coach wheels.”
He grinned. “Dinner it is.” He winked next. “And I shall return you to the Duke’s house, in plenty of time to pleasure you before they get home.”
She dampened her lips. “I’ll see that it’s mutual.”
“Will you.” His lids dipped slightly. “In that case, I’m glad dinner requires one have a napkin on their lap.”
She laughed with him. “You say the most shocking things.”
He took that as a compliment. “I do them too.” He moved to sit beside her and soon was kissing her, hot, slow, sensual.
Raising his head, their breath bathing each other’s lips, he added, “You enjoy that about me. A tame man would not do for you, my dear.”
“Mmm. She cupped his cheek. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to dinner.” Then kissed him.
They did not. Hands sought and found. Under cloaks, they pleasured each other, arriving back at the dukes and eating from a tray in the study instead.
He left shortly afterwards—before they tempted each other beyond discretion.
* * * *
The week following was a wonderful time for Haven, although she was not impressed with the sedate pace of rides in the park, and on suggestion from the Duchess, attended many amusements with only the Duchess and Lisette. There were enjoyments to be had at the salons. Her favorite outings, when she and Lisette went to the museum or to a lecture. She found it intellectually stimulating.
The second week, she and Deme went to a Masque ball and could hardly keep their hands off each other.
He had been busy also, and gone to his club, or about with the Duke—Deme jested to her that having that prior rakehell rep, there were more dropped jaws when he walked into a club and ordered coffee, instead of his usual bottle of whiskey—than when old Lord Pombsby’s trousers had fallen off during the reel at Carlton house.
Secreted with him in an alcove, the window behind them frosted with snow, Haven took his supple kisses on her throat and her nape, and his caresses under the silk cloak she wore ov
er a black gown. In their masks, their eyes glittering in the shadows, it was exciting and arousing to have him ease up her skirts under the cape and stroke her to feverish climax.
Deme leaned her against the wall, freed his sex and entered her afterwards. Their breathing tight and fevered, her hands under his cape holding to him and his lifting her, lowering her. They hissed sultry breaths through clenched teeth at the intense carnal pleasure of it. When he came, they clung to each other, trembling.
Two days later, they were at a gathering and Deme forgot himself and kissed her nape in full view of several gaping people.
It was deuced difficult to keep their hands off each other.
* * * *
It was the evening before Lisette’s ball. The Duchess’s house was all a frenzy with florists and bakers and all manner of people in and out.
Escaping the madness after going with Lisette to collect her ball gown, an amazing creation that would be talked about for the rest of the season, Haven spent time in the carriage house, seeing her father when he was not busy running errands...
The social events had been wonderful .London; through eyes of someone in society was a different experience too for Haven. Yet much of that was because of the Marquis—and she needed time to herself to process it all.
In a simple winter gown of chocolate hue, she did a cleaning and straightening of the apartments then brewed tea before sitting in the jutting upper window, absently watching coaches and vehicles manage the snow-laden streets—sipping, reflecting—and feeling much of the intoxication at the memories as she had in the moment.
When the door opened, she assumed it was her father and looked that way. The Marquis stepped inside, hatless, his coat open, and a scarf dangling under the lapels.
“I was half afraid you’d commandeered a coach and headed to Wimberly.” He grinned, taking in her comfortable pose and gown. “It’s madness inside the house.”
“It is.” She tilted her head and noticed he took neither his coat off nor sat. “Tea?”
“No. Thank you.” He walked over to stand near her. Deme looked out the window for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I’ve something to give you before the ball.”
