Let Sleeping Rogues Lie

by Sabrina Jeffries

  She avoided his gaze. “Just tell me what you like. Am I pleasing you?”

  “You’re driving me insane.” When she tightened her grip, he moaned low in his throat. “Yes, like that. Ah, sweetheart, that feels like heaven.”

  “Except reckless,” she said.

  “Definitely reckless.” He caught her chin with one hand. “Thank God.”

  Then he kissed her, his tongue mimicking the thrusts of his shaft into her fist as his other hand fondled her breast. The quivering between her legs started all over again, startling her with how easily he could rouse it.

  She did seem to be rousing him fairly easily, since he was soon panting against her mouth. He dropped his hand to grip hers again, urging her to stroke faster. “Ah, sweet Madeline, so practical…so naughty…you make me want—”

  He broke off, fumbling for the soiled handkerchief he’d shoved in his pocket, then wrapping it around their joined hands. “God, I’m there…yes…yes!”

  With a hoarse cry, he spent himself into the handkerchief, his hand squeezing hers to halt her motions. Wondering what he’d meant by “you make me want” and what exactly she made him want, she stared down at their hands. It fascinated her to feel every jerk of his penis, every spurt of his seed.

  She’d never done anything so intimate. Who’d have guessed it could be so beautiful, even without completing the seduction? When he bent his head to hers and brushed a kiss to her forehead, she felt a sudden urge to cry, for what could never be, what they could never share.

  Because now she knew the truth—if she ever allowed him to take her innocence, she would give her heart to him, too. And a rakehell was a terrible guardian for a woman’s heart.

  Even a heart as practical as hers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dear Charlotte,

  You are quite mad. Do you really think Norcourt and Lady Tarley can behave around impressionable young girls? What does Miss Prescott think of your plan?

  Your cousin,

  Michael

  Anthony came slowly to his senses, drifting down from his heady release to find Madeline drawing back her hand. Once again, she’d brought out the beast in him, keeping him from doing what he should.

  He wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t regret a moment of it. Besides, she looked so awkward and uncomfortable that he only wanted to reassure her.

  “Are you all right?” He wiped her fingers with the dry part of the handkerchief.

  “Fine.” But she refused to look at him as she straightened her clothing.

  “Do you regret tarrying with me?” he probed.

  “No, of course not,” she murmured. Before he could even smile at that response, she added, “Since I’ve met your terms, we can go on with our bargain.”

  A sudden flood of anger took him by surprise. “Is that all this meant to you? A way to get your party?”

  “What did it mean to you?” she countered with a little lift of her chin.

  The question arrested him. His anger made no sense—he’d had his pleasure, so why did it matter how she felt about what they’d done?

  He didn’t know why—it just did. He stared at her vulnerable expression, and he wanted…more. For the first time, he wanted more. But he wasn’t about to tell her. She’d already taken enough advantage of his strange obsession with her.

  Besides, how could he explain he’d never met a woman like her? Never even dallied with one? She’d think him a fool if he revealed he’d fought all his life to avoid any affair that could lead to more, any affair that could end badly, leaving both parties scarred.

  He certainly couldn’t tell her that the more time he spent with her, the deeper he sank into the very thing he’d always avoided. And that he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Or how to stop it.

  “This was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced,” he finally admitted.

  She blinked, then frowned. “I have trouble believing that no woman has ever pleasured you in such a manner.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He lifted his clean hand to stroke her cheek, noticing the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. So this had affected her, even if she wouldn’t admit it. “I only meant that you…have a way of taking a man out of himself, making him forget things he shouldn’t.”

  Like the flaws in his character. Or the fact that he shouldn’t dally with the one woman who’d agreed to help him with Tessa’s situation.

  A small sigh whiffed from her lips. “Then we’re alike in that. You take me out of myself, too.” She stared at him wide-eyed. “And I didn’t even know I wanted to escape myself.”

  He suddenly got the sense he was on the verge of discovering something important about her. If he dared to probe further. If he dared to let this become…

  No, that was unwise. Instead, he reverted to the comfortable role of practiced seducer.

  “That’s understandable.” Dropping his hand from her cheek, he began to button up his clothes. “If done right, ‘swiving’ does have a tendency to take one out of oneself.” The words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

  “If you say so.” Though her tone matched his for nonchalance, the trembling in her hands as she finished setting her clothes to rights showed he’d wounded her by becoming the consummate rakehell once more.

  Yet he pressed on. “Trust me, it will be even better on Saturday.”

  She stiffened. “I haven’t said I will share your bed.”

  “No, but you will.”

  Her eyes were round and solemn as she stared at him. “We’ll see.”

  He let her tell herself she would avoid any further entanglement. They both knew it was a lie. A woman could return to celibacy if her first experience with a man was bad, which was undoubtedly what had happened to her before. But let that woman once experience the full glory of her sensuality, and she would never deny it to herself again.

  For proof of that, he had only to look at every widow he’d ever seduced—no matter how much they missed their husbands, they missed being bedded more. If they didn’t, it was only because their husbands had bedded them badly.

  Or so he’d been telling himself for the past ten years. Better to believe that than to think that women only came to him because they were lonely. And because his need to assuage his own loneliness was as plain to them as letters on a page.

  He swore under his breath. That was ridiculous. He bedded women because he required release for his unruly urges, because he wanted to get through the dark nights. Not because he was lonely.

  And he wanted Madeline for the same reason. He did, damn it!

  Madeline headed for the door, but he caught her arm. “Do you swear to give me my answers Saturday night?”

  “Yes. After the party. Now I must go.”

  Reluctantly he released her, watching as she slipped out of the garden pavilion. He waited a few moments, then walked out to perform a quick survey of the area. Satisfied that no one was nearby, he headed for the house.

  When he entered the manor, Madeline was seated at the luncheon relating a story of how she’d gone to look for Lady Tarley near the carriages, not realizing that the countess was somewhere else. Judging from Mrs. Harris’s reaction, the headmistress and Madeline had agreed beforehand on what tale to tell.

  So it was his turn. He feigned surprise at learning they’d been looking for him. He explained he’d gone for a stroll around Godwin’s small lagoon. Though Mrs. Harris eyed him closely, and the girls whispered together, they seemed to accept his tale. There was a brief moment when Kitty looked as if she might contradict him out of pique, but his cold stare stifled whatever trouble she thought to cause.

  Thankfully, they boarded the carriages a short while later and headed back to the school. This time, the two girls didn’t seem to mind that he was inordinately quiet as they chattered about what they’d seen. Only Mrs. Harris noticed, casting him a few searching glances though she said nothing.

  Once at their destination, he took his leave and headed back to Londo
n. It was later than he’d expected to be, and he had some unsavory business to discuss with his solicitor before he could meet with Stoneville as planned.

  As Anthony strode into his solicitor’s, pausing to hand his hat to the clerk in the outer office, Mr. Joseph Baines rose from behind his desk in the inner office. “My lord. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  The family solicitor had never been fond of Anthony, a feeling that was entirely mutual. But Anthony could live with that as long as he was sure the man deserved the trust that Wallace and Father had placed in him.

  Anthony waited until Mr. Baines closed the door and resumed his seat before he spoke. “I thought you should know I’ve dismissed the steward at Norcourt Hall.”

  Disapproval was plainly etched in the solicitor’s overly powdered face. “Dismissed him?”

  “Yes.” Anthony sat down and propped his ankle on his knee. He drew out two folded sheets of paper and unfolded them on the desk. “This is only a sample of his shenanigans with the books. It took me but a few hours to discover how much money he’d been secreting away by underpaying the staff.” He watched Baines’s face carefully. “It’s no wonder we’ve had trouble keeping footmen in our employ. And the butler was near to giving notice when he learned that his salary was actually supposed to be higher.”

  The shock that spread over Baines’s features didn’t appear feigned, nor was there a trace of guilt in his face. Perhaps the man hadn’t been part of the steward’s deception. Anthony had hoped not.

  Baines skimmed the paper, then said in a hushed voice, “My lord, I had no idea. He came highly recommended, and I drew up the contracts with the assumption—”

  “I’m sure that’s true. But I thought you should be made aware of his character.”

  “Certainly, sir.” He stiffened, then folded his hands on his desk. “I shall, of course, resign my position at once. I am the one who hired him, and consequently, I am the one responsible for this travesty.”

  For half a second, Anthony was tempted to accept the man’s resignation. But the fact that he’d proffered it absolved him of any misconduct. And the truth was, the solicitor had a keen legal mind and the ambition necessary to benefit from it. His personal dislike of Anthony might be annoying, but it would never keep him from performing his duties to the greatest of his ability. Anthony admired him for that alone.

  “I’m afraid I shall have to refuse your resignation, Mr. Baines. I don’t hold you at fault in this matter. I merely thought you should be apprised of it.”

  “Thank you, sir. I shall try to be worthy of your faith in me.”

  His palpable relief took Anthony by surprise. Perhaps Mr. Baines wasn’t entirely opposed to being the Norcourt solicitor after all. “Now then,” Anthony went on, “I’ll need you to find a replacement for the steward as soon as possible.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Also, have you heard of any talented cooks who might be looking for a new position?”

  Mr. Baines jerked his head up. “Surely the cook at Norcourt Hall has not left, as well.”

  “No. I’m asking on behalf of an acquaintance of mine. A Mrs. Harris.”

  The man’s chilly manner returned. “A widow, I take it?”

  “Yes, but not the merry kind.” To his surprise, he rather enjoyed defying his solicitor’s bad expectations of him. “She runs the girls’ school that has agreed to enroll Miss Dalton.” Or would agree, if he had anything to say about it. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Mrs. Harris’s School for Young Ladies?”

  Baines nodded as if in a daze. So much evidence of responsibility on Anthony’s part was obviously more than he could take. “You said no school would consider enrolling her until you gain guardianship.”

  “It turns out I was wrong.”

  For the first time since Anthony had met him, there was a glint of respect in Baines’s eye. “The Harris school is excellent, very prestigious,” Baines said. “If you have secured your niece a place there, it will help your cause enormously. Especially with the change in your situation.”

  “What change?” Foreboding settled in his belly.

  “I wasn’t going to discuss it with you until I confirmed the rumor, but my sources say the court is already leaning toward giving guardianship to your uncle.”

  “What! But the barrister hasn’t even had a chance to plead my case.”

  “As I told you before, they’ll be considering more than the mere facts of your fortune or rank. According to statements submitted by Lord Tarley—”

  “What has the Earl of Tarley got to do with this?” Anthony said hoarsely.

  “He has the ear of one of the judges and seems not to like you.”

  No surprise there. Damn! If he’d ever guessed that his dalliance with Kitty would cling to him for eternity like the smell of dead fish, he would never have spent one minute in her bed. It had certainly not been worth it.

  “Is there anything to be done about the court’s bias?” Anthony asked.

  “Merely the same things I’ve urged. Avoid gaming clubs, eschew ladies of the evening, try not to be seen in the company of known profligates—”

  “And attend church and apply for sainthood and God knows what else,” Anthony snapped. “All to satisfy some dubious idea about what makes a man respectable.”

  “Dubious it may be, my lord,” Baines said, reverting to his more usual manner, “but it is how most people live.”

  “Then most people be damned!” When Baines frowned, Anthony bit back another curse. “Forgive me, sir, I haven’t been myself lately. This matter of Tessa’s future is very distressing.”

  “Perhaps you should abandon her to her relations.”

  “The bloody devil I will. I won’t let the Bickhams sink her in misery.” He rubbed the scar on his wrist, then leaned forward. “Can we win? Despite Tarley?”

  Baines glanced to the papers showing the steward’s perfidy, then squared his shoulders. “I believe we can, yes. Your securing of her enrollment in that school will weigh well in your favor. And I have procured a barrister unparalleled in arguing cases of this kind. If you can show the court—”

  “That I’m capable of being a decent guardian. I know. I’m working on it.”

  But when he left Baines’s office half an hour later after more discussion of strategy, his unease wouldn’t abate. It bothered him he had to provide Madeline with this party at a time when he was supposed to be lying low. It bothered him she was so obviously deceiving him about why it was important to her. Most of all, it bothered him that Lord Tarley was now involved.

  Fortunately, Kitty wasn’t likely to fuel her husband’s dislike by speaking of her recent encounter with her former lover. If she was dim-witted enough to do so, he had only himself to blame, for giving her this power over him in the first place.

  His years of thumbing his nose at society had brought him to this, a prison of his own making. Perhaps he should have lived his life more wisely.

  Gritting his teeth, he climbed onto his horse. No, he had no regrets. Why should he have catered to the madness around him? Why should he have given his aunt and uncle the satisfaction of believing that their despicable methods had been right and just? Wasn’t it better to have proved them wrong by his very life?

  Yes, and they’re certainly suffering for it, aren’t they? They’ll have Tessa to torment now, all because you couldn’t be more circumspect.

  He scowled at his conscience, which had chosen a damned fine time to show up. Where had it been while he was cutting a wide swath through society’s widows?

  Banished by you. Remember?

  Bloody insolent conscience. All right, so he’d made mistakes he was paying for now. But Tessa wouldn’t pay for them—not if he could help it.

  He glanced at his pocket watch. Damnation, that discussion with Baines had taken longer than expected. He’d be late to meet Stoneville at Brompton Vale to discuss the nitrous oxide party. And it was never wise to keep Stoneville waiting.

  Just as he’d feare
d, by the time he reached Stoneville the man was well on his way to being foxed, thanks to a whisky flask he brandished as Anthony approached.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Anthony bit out, “when did you start carrying whisky with you everywhere?”

  “About the same time you turned into a prig.” Stoneville took a last swig, then tucked the flask inside his immaculate riding coat. “Just because you’re trying to prove something to the world doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be dull.”

  “I hate to disappoint you, old chap, but you’re far duller when you’re drunk than when you’re sober.”

  It was true. Why had he never noticed that before? And was he the same—a blithering idiot when he was foxed?

  Too much wine often leads to debauchery. Not to mention other idiotic behaviors that a sober person would never engage in.

  Wonderful, now Madeline and his damned conscience were working together to plague him. Ruthlessly, he ignored them both. “I need a favor.”

  “So I gathered from your note,” Stoneville said, as they set their horses off at a walk along the perimeter of the vale. “But what was so bloody important about coming to this deserted spot? I much prefer Rotten Row.”

  “For once, you can do without your daily ogling of the opera dancers in their carriages. I’m not supposed to be ‘seen in the company of known profligates’ like you. Your servants talk, my servants talk, and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to meet that wasn’t a brothel, club, or gaming hell. No one will notice us here.”

  “Very well. What’s the favor?”

  “I need you to throw a nitrous oxide party.”

  Stoneville’s eyes lit up. “I knew you couldn’t keep up this monastic life for long. By all means, we should have a party.”

  “Not we. You. I’ll be there, but I have to stay out of sight during the affair. My solicitor was very clear on that subject. That’s why I need you to be the one throwing it—because I can’t be connected with it.”

  “Then why have it?”

  He wasn’t about to tell Stoneville how he’d been blackmailed into it by a slip of a schoolteacher. “Why do you care? Just throw the party, for God’s sake.”