He smiled. The warm light in his gaze said he would be very happy to have her in his bed one last time.
Logan took her cloak. He gave Charlie a worried look. ‘The duke and duchess are waiting for you in the drawing room.’ Charlie stiffened.
The bubble of comfort surrounding Merry burst. She swallowed. ‘I will retire.’
‘They asked to see you too,’ Logan said with a flicker of emotion on his face. Triumph, Merry thought.
‘Very well.’ Charlie straightened his shoulders, a small movement, but Merry felt his discomfort, his expectation of trouble. He took her arm with a hard set to his jaw and a martial light in his eye.
Cold gripped Merry’s stomach. The duke must have heard rumours of the betrothal and come to stop it. It would not take long to set their minds at rest. She stiffened her backbone.
A footman Merry didn’t recognise threw open the drawingroom door. Merry stepped inside.
She stopped and stared.
Behind her, Charlie cursed softly.
Caro and Beth were perched on the edge of a sofa, their gazes pleading for rescue.
A tall grey-haired gentleman stood by the hearth, his face lined and grim.
A small but vital lady sat opposite the girls with a cup of tea in her hand. She smiled at Charlie. ‘How was the ball?’
‘Mother.’ He bowed stiffly. Merry’s heart twisted at his obvious chagrin. ‘Your Grace,’ he said to his father with a deeper bow. ‘What brings you to Yorkshire? May I introduce my friend Miss Draycott. I see you have already met Mrs Falkner and her child’s nurse, Beth.’
The grey eyes of His Grace bored into Merry. His lip curled with distaste. ‘I knew your grandfather.’
‘Come, child,’ Her Grace said. ‘Sit down. May I offer you tea?’
Merry would have preferred a hole to open up in the floor. She glanced at Charlie. His face was expressionless, his eyes dark and unfathomable.
She took the chair indicated. ‘No tea, thank you.’
Charlie stood, feet apart, his hands clasped at his back. Rigid. Formal. ‘As I am sure you know, Miss Draycott has kindly agreed to accept my proposal of marriage.’ The harshness in his voice, as if the words had been forced from his throat, caused Merry to cringe inside.
The duke glared at her. She lifted her chin. He turned his cold gaze on his son.
‘So, the rumours are true,’ the duke said.
‘They are not rumours,’ Charlie said. ‘We were waiting to inform you before making an announcement. You have saved us the trouble of returning to London.’
‘Lord Tonbridge,’ Merry said, ‘I—’
Charlie crossed to her side and picked up her hand. He kissed it, deliberately displaying the ring on her gloved finger, one he’d given her that afternoon. He was making it worse. Why did he not just admit the truth?
‘I beg you to excuse me,’ Caro said, rising, then making a deep and elegant curtsy. ‘My son is alone upstairs. I would prefer to go to him than take tea.’
Her Grace turned her gaze on Beth squirming on the couch. ‘I found this young lady in the servants’ hall kicking up larks. I understand she is one of your servants, Miss Draycott?’
Caro turned a reproachful gaze on Beth.
‘I weren’t there for more’n a minute or two,’ Beth said. ‘I’ve been locked up in the nursery for days.’
Caro smiled gently. ‘You have been a great help. And you deserve a little fun. I beg your pardon, Your Grace. It was quite my fault.’
‘Bad influence, she is,’ His Grace said. ‘Found her sitting in a footman’s lap.’
Beth flushed scarlet. ‘Sorry, Mrs Falkner.’
‘What kind of woman employs—?’ His Grace began.
‘Father,’ Charlie said.
‘Please do go to your son, Mrs Falkner,’ Her Grace said mildly, but with the authority of a woman who is sure of her place in the world. ‘I know what it is to worry about children. I suggest you take your nurse with you.’
Head down, Beth scurried to the door with Caro close behind. Cowards. And Merry didn’t blame them one little bit. She felt quite cowardly herself and rose to follow them.
‘I wonder if I might have a moment more of your time, Miss Draycott,’ the duchess said.
The command hung in the air. No way to refuse, it was uttered too softly. Merry sank back into her chair. She swallowed against the rawness in her throat.
The door closed behind Caro. Lucky Caro.
‘Hmmph.’ The duke cleared his throat. He looked at Merry, then at his son. ‘Why did you bring these females into my house, Tonbridge?’
Charlie stiffened, muscles flickering in his jaw, his hands opening and closing. ‘You will not speak in that tone of voice about my fiancee’s friends.’
There was something in his eyes. Embarrassment, perhaps? Regret? Whatever it was, it was Merry’s fault for letting his chivalry overcome her objections. She didn’t belong in his world. She never had. And never would.
The dryness in her throat made it hard to speak. Her voice sounded rusty. ‘Your Grace, Lord Tonbridge gave us needed sanctuary. Please be assured we will be leaving first thing in the morning.’
She removed the ring from her finger and placed it on the tea tray. ‘I hereby relinquish any claim to your son’s hand. We find we do not suit.’
‘I’m witness to your statement, miss,’ the duke said.
‘Oh, my dear,’ Her Grace said. She glanced up at Charlie. ‘Have you argued?’
He stared at Merry, his face grim. ‘No. The engagement stands,’ Charlie said.
‘What?’ His Grace roared, his face flushing with an unhealthy colour of puce.
The room blurred. Charlie’s face wavered in and out of focus. She could not quite make out his expression, but she knew what was there. Determination. Perhaps even a desire to protect her feelings. Chivalrous kindness. She could not let him do it. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Forced the shake out of her chest with a deep breath.
She rose to her feet and brushed the wrinkles from her skirt. ‘Tha’s been reet kind, Charlie. Helpin’ out with the Purtefoys an’ all.’ She cast him a saucy smile as she headed for the door. ‘If you ever need a favour, or a tumble, Merry Draycott’s your lass. But I’ll not hand over my brass to any man.’
‘Damn it, Merry,’ he said.
She turned at the door and swept a magnificent curtsy. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you both.’ Dignified and straight-backed, she walked out.
The footman quietly closed the door.
Heart in her throat, so large and painful, Merry hesitated, listening, praying everything would be all right between Charlie and his father.
‘How dare you bring a common trollop into my house?’ The duke. It seemed her little act had worked.
‘You are wrong about Miss Draycott,’ Charles said, his voice low. ‘She deserves nothing but respect.’
‘What about you, Charles?’ The duke’s voice, harsh, angry. ‘How can I respect a man who forgets his promises so quickly? Did I not keep my part of the bargain? Have I not paid out a fortune to widows and orphans from the last time you ran from your obligations? At your request? Based on your promises to do your duty?’
What on earth could he be talking about?
The footman shook his head, his face disapproving. Merry glared at him.
Charlie cursed. ‘This is different.’
‘Charles,’ his mother said sharply.
‘Is it?’ his father said, overriding his apology.
‘Please, both of you,’ Her Grace said. ‘Can we not discuss this sensibly?’
‘Sensibly?’ the duke roared. ‘He doesn’t understand sensible. Or honour. He destroyed a regiment and with it our good name with his foolhardiness. I’ll be damned if I let him destroy anything else with this latest peccadillo.’
Merry covered her mouth with her hand, shock catching her by the throat in a vice. The footman inched closer, his face red beneath his peruke. She held her ground.
; ‘Damn you, Father,’ Charles said. ‘Miss Draycott is worth a dozen Lady Allison Purtefoys as you will soon discover.’
‘Oh, I know you burnt your bridges there, Tonbridge. Ruined my hopes. But I’ll not let you marry that woman. I’ll cut you off without a penny. You’ll get nothing that isn’t entailed, d’you hear me? Not a thing.’
Merry whirled away. She’d heard enough to know exactly what she had to do.
Charlie wanted to plant his father a facer. And he might have if the old fellow had not looked as sick as a horse. He crossed the room and glared down at him. ‘Do it. Cut me off. See if I give a damn.’
Father glared back. ‘You are a Mountford. Act like one.’
‘I am also a man.’ He looked at his mother. ‘There is more to life than duty.’
‘What about Robert?’ Father said. ‘Don’t you care about your brother now? Are you so blinded by lust you’d abandon him?’
The realisation hit Charlie like a blow to the solar plexus. ‘He doesn’t need you or your title or your money. Any more than I do.’
Father’s jaw dropped. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t test me, my boy.’
‘I’m no boy, Father, to be bullied by you or anyone else. If you’ll forgive me, I have your apologies to make to Miss Draycott.’
‘Damnation, Charles. You will not leave this room.’
Oh, but he would. It was time he and Merry sorted out just where they stood.
He walked out of the door and ran up the stairs.
He found Merry in her chamber, folding a gown into her valise. She did not look up.
‘What are you doing?’
Merry turned to face him. ‘Preparing for our departure.’
He felt something tear in his chest. ‘Marry me, Merry.’
Open-mouthed, she stared at him and he swore he saw a yes in her gaze, and yet there was a brittleness about her smile he couldn’t quite understand. ‘A tempting offer, my lord, but, no, thank you. I am more grateful for your help than I can say, but it is time to return to reality.’
Refused. Again.
Damn it all. ‘Why not?’
She looked over at the valise and then back to him. ‘I’m not the marrying kind. I have a business to run. I have been away too long.’
Unable to look at the regret in her eyes, Charlie turned away. He crossed to the window and looked out. Ice frosted the panes. Merry wouldn’t be speaking of her business if she felt as he did. Perhaps this was his punishment for all those lives lost. He was to be deprived of the one thing he really wanted. No doubt he deserved it. ‘I will come with you,’ he said. ‘See you safe home. Stay a while.’
Try to get her out of his blood. Except he had the feeling it would never happen.
‘Running the mill keeps me far too busy for such distractions.’
‘Damn it.’ He crossed to her, pulled her into his embrace and looked down into her lovely face. ‘You know I will miss you.’
She stroked his cheek. ‘I’ll miss thee, too. But duty is duty. You have yours and I have mine. The reason for our bargain is over. I thank you for standing up for me to your father, but I have cried off and there is no sense in drawing this out.’
Regret shadowed her eyes, as if she was holding something back. Something she didn’t want him to know.
Of course. It hit him like a blow between the eyes. She’d seen him cowering in the dark, seen his weakness and wanted no more to do with him. It had to be something, because if Merry wanted to stay with him, nothing would stop her.
‘Then there is no more to be said.’ His voice was hoarse, his throat tight.
She nodded and raised her brows. ‘We do have one last night, before we set our feet back on the path of duty. Should we waste it talking?’
His blood heated. His body hardened. How could she still have this effect after all she had said? He should walk away. At least he’d retain a shard of pride.
She must have seen the thought in his face, because she gave a wry smile. ‘Happen you are right. I’ll move into Caro’s apartments in the other wing.’ A small sniff undid him.
Tipped her chin and brushed a tear away with the ball of his thumb. ‘Oh, Merry, why are you crying?’
She cupped her hands around his face. ‘I need you tonight, Charlie,’ she whispered. ‘I need you to hold me and make me forget.’ Inevitability shone in her eyes. This or nothing.
He looked down at her, and his heart felt full and empty at the same time. He felt as if a step in any direction was the wrong one, but he did know he wanted Merry. And probably always would. He pushed aside thoughts of the empty future, because tonight he would hold her, bring her bliss and pretend she was his. Something in his chest stretched tight like a bowstring. No matter what happened, it would break. ‘So be it. We will not waste these last few hours. Instead we will make memories neither of us will forget.’
He let her see the heat of his desire.
Merry tipped her face for his kiss. Her heart ached. The pummelling it had received from her betraying family seemed insignificant to the tearing in two she felt now. He’d stood against his father and defended her honour, but the sacrifice he faced was too great. The scorn in his father’s voice, the threat of banishment, were too much for her shoulders to bear. She’d already separated one man from his family—she could not do the same thing to Charlie. She loved him too much.
Love? How had love happened? Wasn’t it gratitude? Friendship? The pain in her chest increased. If she truly loved him, she had to let him go. For his sake.
He plied her lips with his until she opened to admit him. The kiss was delicious, expert, teasing and demanding. She let her senses drift on sensual delight, until they were both breathless.
‘Let me help you out of that gown,’ he whispered in her ear. Delicious shivers ran down her spine. Sensations she would never feel again. Regret flowed through her veins, an aching sadness. The urge to weep caught at her throat. Burned in her eyes. Pain she must not let him see.
‘Tha’s a bad lad,’ she said with a smile that felt forced. To hide it she turned her back to grant him access to her ties.
He made short work of the hooks and the laces. ‘Oh, Merry,’ he whispered, ‘I am going to miss you.’
She would miss him too.
He slipped the sleeves of the gown down her arms and held it there. ‘Now I have you,’ he whispered wickedly. ‘You cannot get away.’
She chuckled low in her throat.
A shudder of pleasure ripped through her body. Helpless, she waited for the onslaught of his lips.
Slowly, he pulled the pins from her hair. Heavy black tresses fell down around her shoulders. From behind, he cupped her breasts covered by her chemise, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs while he buried his face in her hair, nuzzling until he found her nape. He licked and nibbled at her neck and shoulders until the sensations had her writhing with pleasure.
He breathed a soft laugh against the tender place beneath her ear. ‘Patience, my lovely.’
‘You will suffer for this,’ she gasped as his tongue explored her ear and shivers ran across her spine.
‘I’ll look forward to it, sweet darling.’
His endearments tugged at her heart. Unbearably sweet as well as sensual. Wanting to see his face, hold him in her arms, Merry twisted around. He’d trapped her arms at her sides within the gown. Left no option, she attacked his mouth with her lips and pressed her body to his hard length.
With a grin, he relaxed his hold, allowing her to ease her arms free. She flung them around his neck and showered his face with kisses as light as butterfly wings.
While she kissed him on his lips and cheeks and jaw and chin, he pushed the dress down over her hips. It slid to the floor. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he pushed her a little away. ‘You are beautiful,’ he said. ‘Do you know what word came to my mind when I saw you out on the moors?’
She shook her head.
‘Perfect,’ he breathed. He shook his head. ‘Nothing else. Simply pe
rfect.’
Thrilled and honoured, she wanted to melt. She forced herself to grin. ‘Now you know better.’
He laughed. ‘Yes. I do. You are sublime.’
The reverence in his voice smashed through her defences tearing down walls, crumbling armour to dust, yet she could not let him see. She forced a smile and hoped he would not hear how close she was to breaking. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. I love you, she whispered in her heart.
Brightening her smile, she cocked her head on one side. ‘You are behind in the undressing department.’ With trembling fingers, nerves and excitement tangling together to render her awkward, she attacked the knot at his throat while he shrugged out of his coats.
The strip of muslin followed them to the floor. Obliging her, he pulled his shirt off over his head. She looked her fill at his chest, so broad and manly, at the scar gleaming silver in the candlelight, and branded it all on her mind and in her soul.
A corner of his mouth lifted. A purely male arrogant smile. It hit her low in her belly and her blood raced through her veins, hot with desire.
It hurt to know she would never see him like this again. She wanted to see all of him.
Her fingers went to his waistband, hesitated. Would he think her too bold. ‘May I do the honours?’
‘Please.’ His voice sounded strained as if he, too, battled with words he could not say.
The buttons came undone with a little tugging. Free of the confines of tight fabric, his shaft rose proudly between them. She took it in her hand, curled her fingers around his width and stroked hard and firm. A hiss of indrawn breath tightened her insides with a steady pulse beat of blood. She slipped her hand beneath the base of him, and rolled his testicles, heavy and hot, in her palm. Exquisite velvety heat. He groaned his pleasure and sent hers rocketing out of control.
She leaned close to his lovely sculpted chest and grazed his nipple with her teeth.
‘Careful, sweet,’ he said on a sharp exhale of breath. ‘You will undo me too quickly.’ He picked her up and laid her on the bed, before slipping off his shoes and peeling off his evening breeches and stockings.
Magnificent man lit by candlelight. Sculpted warm skin and muscle. A god of love bearing the scars of a warrior. She would always remember him like this.
More Than A Mistress Page 22
