Something wasn’t right here.
What could possibly be keeping her from marriage? He pulled off his jacket and sat down on the bed in thought. He needed to discover what was behind her issue with marriage and assuage her reasons until she relented.
Other than a chiding from Jennette for worrying her and a quick visit to Elizabeth, Avis spent the remainder of the next week alone in her home. With each day that passed, she prayed for her monthlies to come until she believed she could not ask God for another thing in her entire life. But still they didn’t come. She couldn’t be pregnant. She would have to marry him. She didn’t want that…did she?
She lay in bed, trying to imagine what marriage to Banning would mean. A man in her bed who knew her body and how to bring her to ecstasy. Someone to talk to during the long winters. Someone who seemed to respect her opinions on matters and had no problem discussing, or rather arguing, his opinion too.
Avis bit her lower lip. Blast, she missed the cur.
He’d called on her several times in the past week and each time she had Grantham turn him away. So far, she didn’t believe anyone had noticed his attempts to visit, but she couldn’t take any more chances. Spurning his calls hurt her more than she wanted to admit but there was no point in encouraging him when she couldn’t trust herself. Not as long as her father’s blood ran through her.
As she rose to change into her morning clothes, she realized thoughts of marriage did not matter any longer. Her courses had started during the night. There no longer appeared to be any reason she might have to marry him. Tears burned down her cheeks.
After the past few days, she’d expected to be crying out of relief. She fell onto her bed and put her face in the pillows. She wasn’t with child. She pressed her hand to her belly, there was no baby growing there. She would never have his child. She would never have him again.
She’d never felt so empty in her life.
Why had she invited guests today? With her courses only started two days ago and her emotions still in upheaval, the last thing she needed was a literary salon in her home. But she’d planned it weeks ago and it would look quite bad if she canceled. As people arrived that afternoon, she did her best to plaster on a smile and be pleasant.
Soon the salon filled with people but still there was no sign of Emory. She knew he had returned with the prince for the duke’s memorial because he’d sent a note around telling of his return. They really shouldn’t start discussing his book without him.
“He should be here any moment,” she told her friends. Trying not to look obvious, she peeked out the window. She was anxious for the salon to start. The sooner it began, the sooner it would be over. She spotted Emory coming up the walk. Thank God, he had arrived. But glancing behind Emory’s carriage, she noticed another coach. This one had an earl’s emblem blazed on the door. She clutched the window frame for support.
“I believe our guest of honor has arrived,” she said. Plus a very unwelcome addition.
If she barred Banning from entering, everyone would be suspicious. If she let him in, who knew what might happen. She had no choice but to invite him into her salon and hope he did nothing extreme.
“Lord Selby and Mr. Billingsworth,” Grantham announced.
“Welcome to my salon, my lord,” she said with an exaggerated curtsy. “This is quite unexpected.”
“I am fairly certain it is not,” Banning remarked as he passed her. “Thank you for the invitation, Miss Copley.”
As if she would have issued such an invitation. “And Mr. Billingsworth, our honored guest.”
Emory took her hand in his and placed a quick kiss on her hand. “It is a pleasure to be at your home, Miss Copley. I will need just a moment and a glass of water before I start my oratory.”
A footman poured a glass of water for him as the guests took their seats. As the hostess, she felt all her guests should have the best chairs, so she sat in the rear of the room. Banning took the seat next to her. She could feel his breath caress her ear as they turned to watch Emory take his position in front. She could smell the tangy scent of him that always drove her mad.
While Emory spoke, Avis did her best to concentrate on him and not the man next to her. But try as she might, she heard barely a word Emory spoke. Yet she heard every breath Banning took. She watched from the corner of her eye every movement he made, whether it was crossing his legs or shifting in his chair. She’d only ever been this intently aware of one man—Banning.
She wondered if the swift brush of his arm against hers had been accidental. He mumbled a soft apology. She closed her eyes briefly only to imagine Banning, naked in bed and waiting for her.
Her eyes snapped open, and she tried her best to listen to Emory. But Banning moved his legs again and one strong thigh grazed her skirts. Only this time, he didn’t move his leg back into a proper position. The heat of his body swept up her limbs and farther, up her back until she had to steel herself against the assault. She shifted away from him, praying for a breath of cool air to dampen her desires.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and noticed the smug little smile on his face. Damn him. He was playing with her.
Minutes passed and several people asked questions of Emory. She would normally be one of the first to speak up and query an author. Tonight she could barely remember her name much less something to say.
The sound of clapping hands told her Emory’s speech was finished. The crowd mingled for over an hour. When Avis glanced around, she realized Banning must have slipped out without saying anything to her. How odd. She rather thought he might do something inane such as cause a scene. Relief merged with disappointment at his exit.
“Avis, I must say you seem different tonight,” Emory noted from over the top of his port glass. He had remained as everyone else departed, leaving them alone in her house.
“However do you mean?”
“Distracted. It’s not like you. I do not think you asked a single question tonight.”
“I do apologize, Emory. I find of late my mind to be on Lady Elizabeth in her time of sorrow.”
He patted her hand softly, caressingly. “Of course, that must be it.”
What was it about his reply that set her nerves on edge? Avis pulled her hand away and looked around for her servants. Where were they? “Did you have a chance to read through my story?”
“I did.”
“And?”
Emory walked away from her. “Well, I believe the story is improving.”
She could hear the hesitation in his voice. “But?”
“Something is still missing. The romance between the two characters is fascinating but it is rather scandalous, and I fear you might offend some readers.”
“Offend some readers?”
“Yes, your heroine is rejecting an earl for a mere mister and a gambler at that. I don’t believe most marriage-minded mamas would ever allow that to happen no matter the reason.”
“But they are in love with each other.”
Emory rolled his eyes. “Yet they still must conform to the mores of society and society would look down on such a marriage.”
He wanted her to change her story again.
Emory clasped her hands and looked into her eyes. “Avis, what is most important is getting you published. I have told you hundreds of times that even if you get your book published you must make your readers happy so they are satisfied and all too pleased to buy your future novels. You have to play the games of Society and follow their rules. The story must be perfect and offend no one. That is why my first book was so successful. I don’t want you making the same mistakes I made with my last few books that I can’t seem to sell.”
Avis nodded, stifling the need to run to her room and cry. Emory was right. She wanted to see her novel in print, and she mustn’t offend anyone or she would never realize her dream.
Emory cleared his throat noisily, as if to regain her attention. “Would you allow me to take you for a ride in the park tomo
rrow?”
A ride? With Emory? He had never shown one bit of attraction toward her except in a friendly manner. Perhaps he just wanted more time to talk about his book and his time with the prince. “Of course. I would love that.”
Emory smiled in a way that made her think she was about to be pounced upon. After kissing the top of her hand, he said, “Very well, I shall call for you at four.”
Avis nodded as he picked up his coat and hat. After Emory left, she dismissed the servants for the night before heading to her study. She wanted her novel published so she had to make her miserable writing less offensive to the general public. Or she had to decide if writing was what she truly wanted to do with her life.
How could she do either one? In her heart, she knew the story worked the best as she had rewritten it. But what was the point of writing if no one would read her stories? She pressed her lips together, fighting the tears that threatened. She didn’t want to give up writing. Creating stories had been her escape from her family life and her escape from Society’s strict rules. Without her writing, what would she have?
Nothing.
A house filled with servants, a few close friends, and enough money to live lavishly the rest of her life, but she wouldn’t have that fulfillment of having created something no one else could have.
The only thing she had ever wanted to do was write. What would she do now? How would she occupy her days? With no husband or children to occupy her time and no writing, the emptiness inside her would only grow. She wiped away a tear that managed to overflow with her frustration.
After she entered the room, she lit several candles on her desk until she had enough light to read without straining her eyes. Standing in front of the desk, she picked up the first page of her manuscript and scanned the story again.
“This is horrid,” she cried, ripping the paper down the middle. A tear trickled down her cheek and then another. She would never be a writer, never see her books in print. No one would ever read her stories and be captivated by them, lost to another world and time.
She lifted the second sheet and started to rip it, but two large, masculine hands reached out from behind her to close over hers.
“Don’t,” Banning whispered in her ear.
Avis gasped in surprise. He shouldn’t be here, in her study. They were alone together and all her servants had retired for the night. And yet, she felt far safer alone in the study with Banning than she had just a few minutes ago with Emory.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I didn’t come to your literary salon to hear Billingsworth blabber on about how wonderful he thinks his new book is.”
“Then why did you attend?”
She could feel his smile against her hair. “It was the only way you would let me into your home.”
“Why should I let you into my house?”
“We still have much to discuss.”
Avis took in a long breath. “I did not believe there was anything left to discuss.”
“You’re wrong.” He wrapped his arms around her. “We have unfinished business.”
She twisted out of his arms. He acknowledged her movement with a brief nod then took a seat across from her.
“Then let us finish our business and be done.”
His lips turned up in a sardonic smile. “At your service, ma’am.”
The look he gave her was positively sensual, and it sparked her every nerve ending to life.
“Why was he here tonight?” he asked.
“He? Which he are we discussing?” She glanced away from him as she played with the folds of her gown.
“Billingsworth. I told you to stay away from him.”
“You are not my keeper.”
“I told you once before not to be in his company.”
“I shall keep the company of any man I choose.”
“Why would you want to be with him after what I told you?”
“He helps me with my writing,” she whispered, looking away from his prying gaze.
“Indeed?” Banning rose and picked up the pieces of her first page. “Is he the reason you believe this page is horrid?”
“It is dreadful writing.”
“It most certainly is not. And you didn’t answer my question,” he retorted.
“Yes,” Avis answered with an exasperated sigh. “Emory reread my manuscript and told me it was better but still would offend the proper ladies of society.”
Banning laughed as he shook his head.
“What are you laughing about?”
“Billingsworth is a jealous ass.”
“What?”
“If he gets you to give up writing he is essentially crushing his competition. He knows you will continue to support him until he sells enough books to be rid of his sponsor. It’s in his best interest to keep you as beholden to him for advice as he is to you for money. Why can’t you see that?” Banning placed the torn paper on top of her manuscript pile.
Avis whirled away from him. “You’re mad. Emory is a fine writer. He has nothing to be jealous of from me.”
“This has nothing to do with how well you write. It’s all about you continuing to pay his debts.”
“You’re wrong. My writing will never be good enough to be published,” she said, trying to keep a sob out of her voice.
“Your writing is beautiful.”
“He said it was too controversial and the ladies would never read it.”
“All the best writers in history were controversial.”
Avis paused. His words made no sense. Emory had nothing to be jealous of from her. She only gave him a little bit of aid until he published his next book.
“You’re wrong about Emory,” she said. “Why should I believe anything you tell me?”
“He’s lying to you, Avis. The creditors are closing in on him. If he keeps you from publishing he knows you will still want to be around writers and will continue to support him.”
Her temper flared. “He is not the liar.”
“When have I ever lied to you, Avis?”
“You told me Emory was to marry Lady Hythe. You told me I was beautiful just to get me on the terrace alone eight years ago.”
He smiled down at her. “I never lied about your beauty, Avis.”
“You kissed me on a wager? A wager!”
“I would have done anything for that kiss,” he whispered.
His warm breath caressed her ear, teasing her with its softness and reminding her of the time they had shared at the cottage. She had to get him to leave before she did something completely rash such as kissing him.
“I think you should leave now,” she said.
She grabbed for the desk behind her as his lips came closer to her neck. A hot shudder swept over her body. She couldn’t let him kiss her again. She pushed herself away from his tempting heat and glared at him.
He took in her mutinous expression. “Perhaps I should leave after all.” He grabbed his coat and hat from the chair and turned toward the door. “Stay away from Billingsworth.”
“Tell me, Selby. Does everyone do your bidding without argument?”
“Yes.” He reached the threshold of the study and glanced back at her.
She cocked her head. “One more thing before you leave. You said we still have unfinished business. What did you mean by that?”
He lifted his head slowly and smiled seductively at her. Staring at her, he strode toward her until they were inches apart. Dear Lord, he was going to kiss her. She couldn’t let that happen. He brought his lips closer to hers until they were only a breath apart.
“I just thought you should know that my proposal still stands,” he whispered.
He left before she could give him a proper set down for his presumptuous comment. She had to get him out of her mind, not that he made it easy. Every time she saw him, she returned in her memories, back to her time alone with him. She pushed those traitorous thoughts aside. She had to be strong. She could never marry.
&n
bsp; Chapter Sixteen
Banning left Avis’s study in a foul mood. The brief contact with Avis had irritated him because all he’d wanted to do was draw her into his arms and kiss her again. As soon as she’d entered the room, her essence surrounded him, feeding on his desire for her. He shouldn’t kiss her anytime soon. He had to let her come to him, although staying away from her would be near to impossible.
As he walked toward his bedroom, he heard his mother’s voice. “Banning? Is that you?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Please come into my room.”
His mother sat in her salon working on a floral embroidery piece. She glanced up as he entered the room. “How was your evening?”
“Dreadful,” he answered.
“Oh, then it quite possibly is about to get worse.” She straightened in her seat. “You have a slight problem, my son.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You were seen leaving the Halstead Inn.”
“What is so unusual about that?”
“With a woman.”
Dear God, she knew. “Mother, I believe I am old enough to do what I wish with my time.”
“Indeed. You should be thankful that I am informing you and you’re not hearing this whispered behind some gossipmonger’s fan. No one knows who the woman was, but the current speculation is that she is a lady and not a lightskirt.”
“So no one saw her face?”
She tossed her embroidery, hoop and all, at him. “No. But I will not have our name bantered about by the gossips. Make sure no one discovers this girl’s name.”
She rose from her seat and blasted an icy blue glare at him. She reminded him of Jennette when he’d teased her to the point of anger. Only he could cajole Jennette out of her ill humor. He knew his mother would not.
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