Deceived by a Lord (A Lord's Kiss Book 4)

by Summer Hanford

  She shrugged. “I’ve only met him once, briefly.”

  Though he frowned at that, Lord James didn’t comment. He looked about them, his eyes settling on the swing. “May I?”

  “Be my guest.” Tilly shrugged. “I won’t be using it anymore.”

  He shot her a surprised look before taking his place on the seat. The swing wasn’t quite wide enough to accommodate his broad shoulders. He draped his arms about the ropes, his expression dejected.

  “Won’t you?” He actually sounded wistful. “I wasn’t lying. Seeing you out here smiling in the sun has been the highlight of every day I’ve been in London. I was heartbroken to learn you were just another shallow, title-grasping seductress. You always seem so purely happy here.”

  Tilly regarded him a long moment. She wasn’t certain what to make of the handsome, mercurial duke sitting on her swing, or the way studying his face made her pulse flutter. “You thought I was a sweet young miss, then my sister told you I am not, and so you climbed into our garden to what? Compliment my legs?” She blushed as she spoke. No one had ever complimented any part of her before, let alone a part no man but her husband was meant to see.

  He shook his head, his expression sorrowful. “I was playing the rogue.” His cheeks went ruddy with embarrassment. “I thought the role would be easier, actually. I wanted a kiss.”

  She should slap him again. “A kiss?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it, kissing you, that is, and I thought if I did, I would be able to banish the daydream I’d concocted as to who you are. And I was angry. I wished to torment you.”

  “Angry?” The man was unfathomable. “But, we’ve never met. How could you be angry with me?”

  Lord James offered a rueful smile, much more pleasant than his earlier bedeviling grins. “I suppose it’s poor form for me to admit as much, but I’m half in love with you, Tilly Philmont. You can’t imagine what women have been like since my uncle died and left me a dukedom. Even ones I’ve known for years. Their behavior has been… disillusioning, to say the least.” He regarded her with those devastatingly blue eyes, so startling under his dark locks. “Seeing you out here, looking as if you haven’t a care in the world, gave me hope. I told your sister how enchanting you are.”

  Tilly didn’t believe his claim of love for a moment, but she did sympathize with him. How could he, a newcomer to London, realize how foolish it was to confide in Prudence? “That was your mistake,” she said emphatically. “My sister is evil.”

  Chapter Three

  Lord James stared at her in shock. “Surely—”

  “No,” Tilly cut him off. “Whatever you plan to say in her defense, you’re incorrect, my lord. Prudence is evil. I know it’s bad of me to think so. I’ve spent most of my life trying to reform my opinion. She doesn’t permit me to.”

  He blinked. “Well, I admit, what little I know of her so far seems to confirm that. You then, I take it, are not evil?”

  Tilly smiled. “I did dump a pot of tea on her once. Her dress was ruined and her hands scalded. They were red for days. I wasn’t sorry.”

  He chuckled, a singularly warm and engaging sound. “So, you aren’t an angel, either?”

  “I’m far from angelic, but I’m not so low as to seduce a man for his title, so I really won’t be using the swing any longer.” She suppressed a sigh. Her sanctuary’s ruin wasn’t truly his fault. Now that he’d alerted Prudence to Tilly’s love of the swing, her sister would put an end to the happy activity anyhow.

  His look shifted to dismay once more. “You must. I didn’t mean to stop you.”

  She shook her head, the light breeze tumbling her curls. “Swinging would be too scandalous, now that I realize...” She glanced toward his windows. “It wouldn’t be right.”

  He contemplated her for a long moment. “I’ll close the curtains. That way, you’ll know I’m not looking.”

  “If you’re telling the truth, you won’t know if I use the swing or not, so what good does my agreement do?” she countered.

  “I suppose I would have to take you at your word,” he said with an easy shrug.

  “Would you?” Tilly asked, surprised.

  “Certainly.” He frowned. “Why do you look so confounded? Is there a reason I should not?”

  “No.” How could she explain? “No one ever does, though. They all think I must be like my sister. Everyone dislikes her so greatly, no one likes me.” She swallowed, aware of the lump that had formed in her throat.

  Lord James extended his long legs, once again silent. Eventually, he said, “You have the opposite trouble I do. Now that I’m a duke, everyone likes me, or pretends to, but I’ve no true friends.”

  “But you must have a few true friends, made before you became a duke.” Unlike her, who’d never known a time before Prudence.

  “I had acquaintances, but they all changed, I’m afraid.” He shrugged, but she saw the sorrow in his eyes. “Some wanted money, some pressured me for gifts, others insisted I throw lavish affairs. All of the girls I knew threw themselves at me.”

  Tilly took in his well-nigh perfect features. “If I may be frank,” she said wryly, “I imagine women were always throwing themselves at you.”

  He grinned. “You say that now, but what you see is the made-over me. When I inherited, my mother and aunt decided I must propagate the family line. They brought me here, to London, and let the city’s finest have at me.”

  She shook her head. “It’s impossible you changed that much.” Or that any woman wouldn’t see at a glance how perfect he was.

  He fumbled in his pockets. From one, he removed a pair of spectacles, from another, a slim volume with a title that indicated animal husbandry. He donned the spectacles and lifted the open the book so that it covered much of his face. “Now picture unfashionably long hair, tied back; country tweed, handed down, much mended and rumpled, and you have the general look.”

  Tilly laughed. He lowered the book. In truth, the spectacles made him more attractive. “I am unconvinced, unless the women you grew up around are very shallow.” His grin wavered and she pressed on. “Why animal husbandry?”

  His expression lightened. “I am rarely asked that question.” He leaned forward, eager. “You see, since I was fifteen, I’ve been helping my uncle’s steward manage his country seat. In three years, we’ve begun to turn things around. The estate should show a profit this year, for the first time in nearly a decade.”

  Tilly was a bit surprised he was only eighteen, the same as she, and that she could manage simple addition while he watched her so intently. He was the most adorable man she’d ever encountered. He met her eyes without guile, eager to hear her reply. A sort of giddiness filled her as she gazed into those blue depths.

  “You enjoy living in the country?” she managed, her voice only a touch breathless.

  “I do.” He snapped the book closed, looking worried. “You do not? Do you…” he frowned, “prefer London?”

  She’d never stopped to consider the matter. Her family didn’t have a country home. They remained in the city year-round. “You know, no one has ever asked me that.” Or awaited her reply with such attentiveness. She pressed her lips together, thinking.

  “Well, I’m asking now,” he said, his tone oddly insistent. “Miss Philmont, do you prefer living in London, or would you consider residing in the country?”

  She looked about, taking in the bright green grass, climbing roses and soaring oak. Beyond that small paradise, encircled by protective walls, the general clatter of London intruded. “I don’t believe I do like it here. The part I find most bearable is this garden.”

  “And I’ve ruined it for you.” He yanked off his spectacles and shoved them into his pocket, the book going into another.

  “No, not really,” she hastened to assure him. “With Prudence here, I won’t be permitted to enjoy the garden, regardless.” She glanced over her shoulder. To her relief, the backs of three heads still appeared above the couch. She should g
o in soon, though. They’d already lingered over tea longer than was customary.

  “You are kind, but I can’t help but imagine I’ve spoiled your sanctuary with my silly attempt at playing a rogue,” he said.

  Tilly felt a renewed twinge of suspicion. “Everyone says you are a rogue.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard.” He frowned. “It’s because women keep claiming I’ve compromised them. Sometimes, ones I’ve never even met.”

  “Not a very high recommendation for my sex.” Tilly frowned.

  “I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “You haven’t.” She glanced toward the house again, keenly aware her time was running out. “You can’t be seen here, you realize.”

  He looked startled. Releasing the ropes of the swing, he stood. “You’re correct, of course, but before I go, let me make up for spoiling the garden. Permit me to call tomorrow and take you for a ride in the park. It’s not the countryside, but it’s pleasant enough.”

  She shook her head. “You are new to London, so you don’t know, but if you take me for a ride in the park, the gossips will have us engaged by evening. I know it wouldn’t be true, but sometimes rumors come to life and create facts.”

  “So,” he said slowly, drawing the word out. “You’re worried to be seen in the park with me out of fear we’ll eventually wed?” A line appeared on his brow.

  When he put it that way, her words sounded like an insult. Besides, she didn’t fear the idea they might wed. Gazing up at him in all his perfection, wedding Lord James seemed a rather pleasant thought.

  “I didn’t mean…that is…” she stammered.

  A light sparked deep in his gaze. “What about that kiss I intended to claim when I climbed over the wall?”

  Tilly gasped. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve heard that a kiss is the best way to test if you wish to marry.” He shrugged. His mien was casual, but his eyes bore into hers, that compelling spark brightening. “If we kiss, we’ll know if we dare be seen in the park together.”

  Tilly’s mouth fell open in surprise. The man was bold, she’d give him that. Perhaps he enjoyed being slapped? She’d heard some men did. Seeing his eyes on them, she snapped her lips closed. Then his words fully registered.

  “You’ve only heard about being kissed?”

  He colored slightly.

  “You’ve never kissed anyone?” she pressed. Tilly was more shocked that the exceedingly handsome Lord James, reputed rogue, had never shared a kiss than she had been by his suggestion.

  “Have you?” he asked, defensive.

  “Well, no, but—” But he was a man and a duke. Tilly wasn’t so naive as to be unaware what men got up to, especially wealthy, titled ones.

  He tugged at his cravat, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “You’re right, a kiss was a foolish suggestion, a terrible thing for me to say, I don’t kno—”

  One step brought her close. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. She didn’t mean to. It simply happened. As soon as their lips met, she forgot she oughtn’t.

  His kiss was everything she’d dreamed a kiss would be. His lips, velvety soft, pressed gently but firmly against hers. It was how kisses were described in the scandalous books she’d found under Prudence’s bed, but so much better. Warm, hesitant, his lips sent pure happiness spiraling through her.

  Tilly released him with a languid sigh and lowered her heels to the ground. He looked down at her in wonder. Under the shade of the oak, the world spun slowly about them. She wanted to cling to him, to kiss him again. He blinked several times and looked as dazed as she felt.

  “Will you take a ride in the park with me tomorrow afternoon, Miss Philmont?” he asked, his voice rough.

  She nodded. “I should love to, my lord.” Her words came out in a whisper, but he must have heard, because he smiled.

  He stepped back and offered a low bow. “Until tomorrow.”

  She watched him stroll away; took in the easy grace with which he climbed the stone wall. He looked back once, from the top, before dropping down the other side.

  Tilly collapsed into the swing, her eyes closed. James. He was marvelous. He was perfect. How amazing she should have someone so wonderful appear in her life. Her lips still tingled with the memory of his kiss. For once, Prudence’s attempts to cause trouble had failed. Instead, Tilly now had something marvelous.

  Her eyes flew open. There were no heads above the couch in the parlor now.

  Chapter Four

  Tilly returned to the house ready for a stern dressing down, or worse, but her mother wasn’t waiting for her inside the garden door. Daring to hope she hadn’t been seen, Tilly changed for dinner. She approached the dining room wracked with nerves, but not a word was said about the kiss. Her parents and Prudence hardly looked her way during the meal.

  As it was obvious her parents didn’t know about the kiss, Tilly tried to convince herself no one had seen her with Lord James. Their mother and Prudence would have walked Missus Clarke out together, or left the parlor for other tasks. There was no reason anyone should have looked out the window.

  When morning came and brought the arduous etiquette exam from Prudence, Tilly’s worry was renewed. Prudence asked question after question about the protocol for being alone with a gentleman. Though her sister’s expression gave no hint she’d actually seen Lord James in the garden, Tilly’s nerves grew ever more thinly stretched. How Prudence would torment her, she didn’t know, but if her sister knew and was showing forbearance, it was only to build to the perfect strike.

  Prudence’s nearly hour-long quiz was cut short by the arrival of Missus Clarke. Tilly’s mother called for Prudence, tea and Tilly, in that order. She approached the parlor filled with anxiety. Before an audience was when Prudence was most likely to strike.

  Tilly settled onto the settee. When she lifted her teacup, her hand shook enough to rattle the delicate porcelain against the saucer. Her mother cast her a glare. Tilly set the tea down.

  The three women began to talk. No one looked Tilly’s way. She began to think Prudence hadn’t seen her with Lord James after all. Her sister’s etiquette questions had been coincidence.

  Tilly relaxed further once it became obvious the three women had forgotten her existence. Taking up her tea with a steadier hand, she permitted her mind to wander to the kiss. A smile tilted her lips. Would there be another kiss in his carriage that afternoon?

  “…listen to servants’ gossip, but Lord James’s valet said a letter arrived last evening that threw the duke into a rage.” Missus Clarke’s words penetrated Tilly’s daydreams. Her attention caught on James’s name.

  “I beg your pardon?” Tilly said. She set down her tea with a clunk.

  Her mother shot her a reproachful look. “Tilly, don’t interrupt, and do stop abusing the china.”

  “Did your maid know what the letter was about?” Prudence asked, her voice disinterested.

  Missus Clarke shook her head. “They say his lordship crumpled the page into a ball, cursed colorfully enough to turn a sailor’s ears red, and shoved the note in his pocket.”

  Prudence rolled her eyes. “How dramatic. Likely a purely invented tale. You know how servants gossip.”

  “Quite right,” their mother said.

  Tilly served herself several small tarts in hopes the movement masked her keen interest. A letter had upset James? Did that mean he wouldn’t come for her that afternoon? She hoped all was well, that the letter wasn’t bad news about his family or his country seat.

  The women once again turned their conversation to managing men, a skill they seemed to think highly necessary. Tilly thought the idea silly. Though she’d never voice the opinion aloud, she suspected that if women put more time into finding a man they cared for, instead of one with the right title or fortune, they wouldn’t need to devote the remainder of their days to managing their husbands.

  When tea finally ended, Tilly retreated to the front parlor, the more formal of the two, and pretended to read. In t
ruth, she was watching the street for any sign of Lord James. If she leaned against the pane, facing his London home, she would know the moment he ordered his carriage made ready.

  Only, no horses or carriage appeared. The minutes ticked by. They built into hours. Worry settled on her. There must have been something terribly dire in his letter to keep him from calling as he’d said he would. Her heart went out to him, hoping the trouble wasn’t with his mother or aunt, or anything else truly dreadful.

  Finally, too late for a ride in the park, a gleaming black coach with the gold and green ducal crest was brought round. The coach was the sort of conveyance used to go about town, not the light, open carriage one would take to the park. He must mean, then, to head elsewhere. She frowned. Something dire had indeed taken place.

  She pressed her cheek to the windowpane, hoping to catch a glimpse of him so she might judge his state of mind. She couldn’t see his door, or even steps, their houses being aligned, but moments later, James appeared. He was impeccably clad in evening clothes, the sort one might wear to a dance, or the theatre. He strode to the coach. A footman opened the door and James entered. He didn’t once glance in her direction.

  Tilly stared, dismayed. He didn’t appear in the least distressed. The hour was too late for meeting attorneys or other men of business. Moreover, he was dressed for a night on the town. She wrinkled her forehead, mystified by his behavior.

  “Whatever are you gaping at?”

  Tilly snapped her head around at Prudence’s demand. Her sister stood framed in the doorway.

  “Nothing.” Tilly tapped the open book in her lap. “I’m reading.”

  “It’s grown too dark to read. You were looking out the window.” Prudence’s eyes narrowed. “And I know why.”

  “There is no why,” Tilly said quickly.

  “Oh, I think there is.” Prudence’s voice held a vindictive note Tilly knew all too well. “One that would get you locked away in this house, your season canceled.”

  Tilly went cold. Prudence did know. “Wh-what do you mean?”