A Lady to Desire

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Not many gentlemen of the ton would do that. Not many would even care. They would simply wed her, take a mistress or a lover as they pleased, and be done with things.

  But Francis did care, which was one of the reasons why she had fallen for him in the first place. She had a feeling that if and when he did marry – whoever the lucky lady was – that he would be faithful. There would be no mistresses.

  Charlotte also should have expected that Francis would wish for the same freedom in return. She didn’t want to grant it, however, no matter how hypocritical that made her. She did not like the idea of him with another woman, let alone kissing another woman. Though, if she was being rational, she supposed that if he still had feelings for her, he would not like seeing her with another man either.

  Was that why he had suggested this plan? To see if he could tolerate seeing her with someone else? Or was the late hour muddling her brain again? It would not be the first time.

  Charlotte couldn’t think and didn’t want to answer. She was too conflicted. Except that Francis was waiting for an answer. He deserved an answer as well. After all, she had essentially asked for this. He was simply giving her what she had asked for, even if she hadn’t known it at the time.

  “Very well,” she finally said. “I agree to your proposition. For the duration of this house party, we behave as if we have no agreement between us.” Which was the truth, of course, for they didn’t. At least nothing binding. “At the end? We shall decide what comes next.”

  Francis smiled then. She hadn’t expected that. Even though he had proposed this plan, she hadn’t thought he would be pleased if and when she agreed. That he was happy was a bit disconcerting.

  In a rush to fill the silence, she could not help but ask, “So when do we begin?”

  “When would you like to begin?” he asked, his eyes starting to smolder with a delicious sort of heat she had not seen there before.

  “Now, I suppose?” she squeaked in reply.

  “As it happens, now works for me as well.”

  Before she could protest, Francis had her backed against the chair again, drat it all, but this time, Charlotte felt no desire to run. Instead, all she felt was a tingling that began at her toes and spread upward through her body – including right to her very core. It had been a long time indeed since Francis had stirred this kind of passion within her. She had not even felt this tingling the night she had disrobed for him.

  “Sweet, sweet Charlotte,” he sighed as he ran his hands down her arms as if relishing the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. “I know that, as of late, I have not been the man you remembered from a year ago. I have, I think, neglected you.”

  “You haven’t. Not really.” Drat! There went her voice, all breathy again.

  He traced the line of her lips with the pad of his thumb. His body was so close to hers that she could feel his erection. Or was that her imagination? It didn’t matter, for he was touching her again. “Yes. I have. But no more.” He reached up to cup the back of her head with his other hand. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  “The door isn’t locked.” Really? That was the best response she could come up with? Charlotte wondered if she was truly going daft.

  He smiled again, this time a wicked smile, the likes of which she hadn’t seen before. “Does it matter?”

  “No.” All that mattered was the way he was making her feel simply by running his thumb over her lips.

  “Good.”

  They had kissed before, plenty of times. More times than Charlotte could remember actually. This kiss, however? This kiss was different.

  From the moment his lips met hers, she felt the contact deep inside of her, an odd connection she hadn’t experienced before. His lips were as they had always been – firm and warm, with just a hint of softness. Except that this time, they were also demanding.

  Francis kissed her with a force she hadn’t thought him capable of, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, not just begging for entrance but demanding it. He took from her, demanding not just her passion but her surrender as well. And she gave it.

  Charlotte opened her mouth to receive more of him, thrilled when his tongue swept inside to tangle with hers. She thrilled when he slanted his lips to better cover hers, pulling her body closer to his in the process. So close that she swore she could now feel the beat of his heart beneath hers.

  Without thinking, she reached up and looped her arms around his neck, giving herself over to the sheer power of this kiss. For it was the sort of kiss she had dreamed of since she was a little girl, the sort she had not believed this man capable of – ever.

  Francis groaned in response, pulling her closer, so close that he was all but devouring her with his mouth. She felt him everywhere, around her and within her, igniting a fire and passion she had not thought herself capable of, let alone him. She had also never felt more alive than she did just then.

  Perhaps coming to this house party had been a splendid idea after all.

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Eight

  Francis could still feel the hard pulse of desire from that singular, passionate kiss the next morning as he strolled the grounds of Havenhurst alone. Though the sun was already streaking through the eastern sky, most of the party guests were still abed and likely would be for some time. Which gave him plenty of time to remember last night and the way Charlotte had all but come undone in his arms.

  It had been a powerful experience. One he very much wished to repeat. But it wasn’t enough.

  They had passion between them. Of all of the things that had changed over the last year, the attraction had never faded. Cooled, perhaps, but not vanished forever.

  That wasn’t enough, however. Especially not when it was obvious Charlotte was attracted to Lord Snowly, and he to Lady Priscilla, if he was being honest. Still, attraction was not love – if such a thing even existed between him and Charlotte any longer, assuming it ever had.

  Were four days enough to sort out this mess? Likely not.

  What of the mysterious Violet Denton? Where did she fit into his past, if she truly existed at all, for he was beginning to doubt that as well?

  “One problem at a time, Deaver. One problem at a time.”

  “Talking to yourself, eh? I do that frequently myself. Especially if I am seeking wise counsel.”

  Francis hadn’t heard Lord Fullbridge approach. Instead, he had been too busy fantasizing about Charlotte as he rambled about the man’s vast – and rather empty at this hour – back lawn.

  Bowing slightly, Francis acknowledged the man’s words with a low chuckle. “Sometimes, your grace. Yes, I am afraid I do. Probably makes me quite mad, I know.”

  To Francis’ relief, the duke returned the chuckle with a small laugh of his own. “Oh, no madder than the rest of us, I’d say.” He cocked his head to the side. “Underhill, isn’t it?

  “Indeed, your grace.” Francis gestured to the well-tended grounds. “May I say your home is quite lovely. I’d also like to thank you for your hospitality. It was much appreciated.”

  Francis was certain that the duke had likely not extended the invitation to the house party willingly and thus had to be careful not to make a misstep, lest he be thrown out on his arse. He couldn’t risk that.

  “Any friend, or in this case relative, of the Bloody Duke is a friend of mine.” Fullbridge indicated what looked like a well-worn path around the side of the house in the general direction of a small lake. “Walk with me?”

  “Of course.” As if Francis could refuse.

  Together the two men walked in silence for a bit, Fullbridge offering up the occasional comment about the history of the estate or some bit of statuary or shrub along the way. The grounds really were beautiful and well tended, with a very hard and masculine feel. There were plenty of greens to be found, but few flowers save for a rose garden that looked as if it dated all the way back to the Reformation. Or perhaps older.

  There was also nothing to soften the sharp l
ines and angles of the grounds, which included several hedgerows and what looked to be a garden maze in the distance. There were no flowering vines to line those same hedgerows or climb up the sides of the stone and mortar wall that marked the boundary of a secondary garden. There might have been once, but no longer. If the duke was planning to increase his family, this estate could use a more feminine touch. While it was not unwelcoming, it was a bit stark, Francis supposed. Much like the duke himself.

  Finally, when they were out of sight of the manor house, Fullbridge halted. “No ears or eyes out here, you understand.”

  Francis nodded. He had assumed from the moment Fullbridge had first approached him that the man had something on his mind. “You’ve something you wish to say.”

  “I do.” The duke looked off into the distance for a moment before turning back to Francis. “I know why you are here, Lord Underhill. Lord Candlewood told me some of your situation and I must admit, at first I was not pleased. After all, this house party is to be my chance to find a mother for my heir, one who is also willing to provide me a spare. Or more.”

  Francis had no idea if the duke understood how cold and callous that sounded, but he made no comment. “Go on.”

  “At first, I had no wish to invite you here, for you are my competition in many respects, as I am certain you understand.” Fullbridge shrugged as if in defeat. “However, one does not say no to the Bloody Duke. At least not if one wishes to keep all of his limbs attached to his body.”

  “No, one does not.” Much as he liked his brother in law, Francis knew better than to rouse the man’s notorious ire.

  Fullbridge clasped his hands behind his back and continued walking toward the maze. “However, last night I observed two things. One is that Miss Cleary, lovely as she is, will not suit my needs.” Francis merely raised an eyebrow in response, indicating the duke should continue. “Strictly speaking, she is more than suitable for my needs actually but, aside from the fact that she seems attached to you despite your lack of an official courtship, I also witnessed her enjoying the company of Lord Snowly.”

  “As did I.” Something that still chaffed at Francis, despite their kiss. Snowly was a complication he had not foreseen.

  “I require a bride that will be loyal to me and me alone. One that I have no doubt will not stray from my bed. Miss Cleary is not…settled yet.” Fullbridge seemed to take his time searching for a word that would not come across as offensive. Perhaps he was more perceptive than Francis gave him credit for being. “I cannot risk that the mother of my next child would have her head turned so quickly by a handsome face, Snowly’s included. I would always question her affections, so to speak.”

  Jealousy. That was something Francis understood. “A valid concern, your grace.” After all, fidelity was not a trait always found among the nobility.

  “Therefore, she will not suit my needs, which is a pity, for her hips appear to be quite exactly what I am searching for in a bride.” It took all of Francis’ restraint not to simply land a good right hook to the duke’s jaw, but he supposed that would be impolite. It would also likely get him tossed out of the house party and away from Charlotte. No, he couldn’t risk that. “But there are other young ladies here who do appear to be as generously blessed and would also likely suit.”

  “A fortuitous occurrence, then.” Francis was beginning to dislike this conversation, not to mention the duke, more and more by the moment.

  “The second thing I noticed was you dancing with my sister, Lady Priscilla.”

  Ah. Here, now, was the heart of the matter. Francis had wondered if the duke might mention the subject. He doubted the man had sought him out just to talk about Charlotte and her hips.

  “It seems the lady and I have much in common. More so than I would have imagined.” Francis was not about to give Fullbridge any more information than was necessary. What he and Priscilla had discussed last evening was private and he intended to keep it that way. “She is also quite lovely and an interesting conversationalist.”

  The duke grunted. “She must enjoy your company, then. Few other men have been so complimentary about her.”

  Francis suspected that at least one other man – the Earl of Snowly – had been, but he did not say that. Instead, he shrugged, echoing Fullbridge’s own expression moments earlier. “Your sister is a lovely woman and, as I said, I enjoyed her company. I find there is much to recommend her actually. She is truly quite charming. I hope she enjoyed my company as well. ”

  “Since she didn’t flay you alive with that wicked tongue of hers, I’ll assume she did.” Fullbridge shook his head in obvious disbelief. “Look, Underhill, I’ve no idea what your intentions are toward my sister.”

  Francis cut the duke off before he could continue. “None, at present. We spent a pleasant quarter hour in conversation and then we danced. After that, I fetched her a cup of punch, since she was quite parched. Nothing more.” Which was the truth, if one did not count the laughing, flirting and teasing that had passed between them, of course. Which Francis was trying very hard not to do.

  “All I am saying is please do not fill her head with dreams you cannot fulfill. If you’re still chasing the Cleary chit, then don’t toy with my sister.” Fullbridge looked up at the sky now. “She has been hurt. I’ve no wish for her to be again.”

  Francis shook his head. “That is not my intention. Not to mention that your sister is more intelligent than you give her credit for being. She knows where we stand, which is precisely nowhere. We danced and laughed. Nothing more. She knows that, as do it.”

  “If you say so.” The duke did not look convinced.

  “I do.” Francis was growing tired of this conversation. “If there is anything else?”

  “No. I have said my peace.” Fullbridge turned to leave before pausing for a moment. “Though I would caution you to beware of Snowly. He can charm a lady into his bed faster than most men can request a waltz and he is not nearly so noble as he pretends. He is no reprobate but there is a rather libertine streak within him. If he wants Lady Charlotte badly enough, he will have her. Make no mistake.”

  “Noted.” Francis had suspected that the earl was no saint, but he had not thought him quite that questionable of character. He would make certain to be on guard. “And thank you, your grace.”

  As Fullbridge strode off, Francis decided that conversation could have gone much worse. The duke could have tossed him out of the party and he would have lost his chance to make things right with Charlotte. If he even could make things right. And if he couldn’t? Well, there were other women in the world. Including the lovely Lady Priscilla. He was not without options, even if he didn’t particularly want them just then.

  By the time Francis returned to the manor house, at least some of the party guests were stirring. Including Priscilla, whom he discovered eating alone in the breakfast room.

  “May I join you?” he asked as he pulled out a chair before hesitating a moment. Some gentleman he was, simply presuming the lady would desire his company.

  She smiled brightly, her eyes dancing with mirth. “I see my brother has spoken to you.” She glanced at the vacant chair. “Last night, I don’t think you would have hesitated. You were bolder then. I liked that about you.”

  Unable to help himself, Francis laughed. He did that a lot in her company, it seemed. “Guilty as charged. I was strolling the grounds this morning and he found me. Or rather, I think he was lying in wait for me. I believe he wanted to warn me away from you. Something about a rapier-sharp tongue and not to hurt you?”

  Priscilla rolled her eyes. “So typical of Phin.” She took a sip of tea as Francis bit into his toast. “My brother can be…”

  “Overprotective? Overbearing? Obtuse? Am I even close?” Francis could not help but grin at the woman across from him.

  “All of the above.” She replaced her cup in her saucer delicately. “The truth of the matter is, I was hurt very deeply years ago. It was a rather awful situation for everyone, including
my brother. I was young and foolish and believed I knew better than I did. Better than he did.”

  Francis nodded in understanding. “Don’t we all?”

  “But I am older and wiser now,” she continued, “and I am not so much a fool as I once was.” Priscilla nodded in the general direction of the doorway where Charlotte and Snowly had just entered; her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. “I know she is the reason you are here. Not me.”

  Francis was quiet for a moment, considering. “That could change.” Provided Charlotte no longer wanted him and Violet was not real or at least not his wife.

  “Perhaps.” Priscilla pursed her lips. “Or perhaps not. I meant what I said last night, Lord Underhill.” She looked around, likely aware that they might be overheard. “I offer you my assistance in exchange for yours.” Her gaze strayed meaningfully to Snowly.

  “And if we fail?” Because despite the kiss he had shared with Charlotte, Francis knew failure was a distinct possibility.

  “Then we fail. There are worse fates to befall us, I should think. I would hope, however, that I gain a friend. And possibly more.” Priscilla shot him a mischievous glance. “And you are not unattractive, my lord, as I am certain you know.”

  “Nor are you, my lady.” Francis grinned back at her wickedly. “In fact, I would dare say you are quite pleasing to the eye, as well. Beyond pleasing.”

  She blushed a little, something he did not think a sophisticated woman like Priscilla capable of doing any longer. “Go on with you.” Though Francis could tell she was pleased by his compliment and he wondered how long it had been since anyone had complimented her.

  So he winked at her roguishly, deciding a little more flattery would not hurt. “I do not lie, my lady. Surely you know that.”