There were no pictures, no words, only intimacy. He opened to her at the same time. As his tongue reached into her mouth, his mind entered hers, eager to share his need, his desire. She submitted. In submitting sometimes she found strength, and it took strength for her to let him in. Eagerly he caressed her mouth and her mind, taking it warmly and with a possession she hadn’t known before.
Then it was her turn. He withdrew and, supporting her tongue with his, invited her into his mouth and his mind. She entered shyly, not sure what he wanted, and then she understood.
Brightness, with hope and a care she had never been aware of in any person in her life. His intelligence shone, his affection reflected the sadness that he firmly pushed away so he could share this with her. Caressing the roof of his mouth, Faith shared everything with him and wondered what it would be like to love him properly.
She stopped herself and jerked back, but he caught her chin and brought her back to him for a brief, sweet encore.
Faith felt exhausted, as though they really had made love. Pleasantly exhausted. She allowed herself to rest in his arms, her eyes never leaving his. He gave a long slow outbreath. “Well.”
“That was something.”
“We’ll have to try it again sometime. But not tonight.”
Any more would tempt them to go further. And that was forbidden. His banyan was loose where she had pushed her way through, but apart from that they were as dressed as they had been when she’d entered the room. His hand had skimmed her breast a couple of times, but he hadn’t lingered and hadn’t tried to do any more. She shuddered at the sinful nature of what they were doing but drew back, not longer certain this was entirely safe. Delicious sin, but with the melancholy knowledge that they could do no more. They were playing with fire, and she no longer doubted his conviction when he told her he could not make love to her or to any other woman.
But this could be her downfall, her weakness for this man, for who would believe his protestations if they were caught in such a condition together? “We should not.”
His expression turned grim. “I know it. You are so lovely, I forget myself. I’m so sorry, Faith.”
“So am I.” She was beginning to think she’d defy society, except for the problems that would create for George. If anyone saw her, if rumours grew, then it would seriously weaken her position, friends in high places or not. She wouldn’t share her concerns with Gerard, not yet. He had enough troubles of his own, but she couldn’t weaken again. However much she wanted to.
Chapter Eight
Gerard went for an early morning ride, feeling better than he had for some time. Stronger, and headache-free. He kept his horse moving, acknowledging the presence of other early risers but not stopping to converse. He needed the fresh air. He needed to think.
He needed her.
All he could think of was Faith; all he wanted was her. He daren’t open his mind to her, as she would detect his arousal. She had seen it last night, experienced it with him, and left him unsatisfied and aching. Despite that, he yearned to share his desire for her with her again. It was dangerous, far too dangerous.
More riders were entering the park now, and a few carriages too. He could no longer find any privacy here, so Gerard set off for home.
Walking his horse around the corner of the square towards the mews, Gerard caught sight of a carriage outside his home. It had a crest on the door, but he was too far away to identify it. His muscles tightened with the awareness of danger, a feeling roiling in his gut that something was wrong. He quickened Bucephalus into a trot.
Normally after a ride Gerard went to his room and changed, but this time, as he handed the butler his hat, gloves and crop, Gerard asked who the visitor was. The answer sent him up the stairs to the drawing room, still in riding dress.
No one remarked on his inappropriate costume for the drawing room, although from a gleam in his father’s eye he knew he’d be brought to task later.
Boscobel faced a man of similar age, but smaller than he and dressed for travelling, not for London. The man swung around slowly when Ellesmere entered the room, and Gerard found himself face to face with Faith’s father.
He took his time strolling across the wide expanse of carpet to this encounter. He was aware of Deborah’s assessing gaze and Faith’s more worried one, but he wouldn’t be distracted. Instead, he opened his mind to his sister.
She responded instantly. That’s Lord Pendford. The man to his left is Sir Philip Grasmere, and the other is a keeper they hired for George. They want to commit him and have some papers to that effect.
Gerard sent her a brief word of thanks. And Faith?
He felt a resonance as his sister absorbed his easy use of Lady Bradley’s first name, but she didn’t linger over it. Grasmere is for her.
Gerard let his attention go to the man standing next to Pendford. Faith was right. An old man. His father made the introductions. The keeper stayed in the background.
“An honour,” he said smoothly, after exchanging one pregnant glance with his father. Never had the duke appeared more like a spider. Oh, not in looks, but Gerard was struck by the comparison to a spider of the large tropical variety. The duke collected people, put them aside for when they might come in useful. Now Faith had come into his orbit, he wouldn’t let her go. Faith’s father stood no chance, if he thought to repossess his daughter.
Besides, he—Gerard—would not allow it.
He swept a bow to the ladies and then turned his attention back to Lord Pendford. His clothes were well made but out of date and bore the unmistakable stamp of a country tailor. Gerard caught sight of the tidemark around his jaw and allowed himself a moment of personal distaste. But his eyes, his eyes were Faith’s. It wrenched him in two, to see eyes that had become so much to him on the face of someone he must defeat.
Gerard faced the man squarely. “To what do we owe the honour of a visit so early in the day?” he asked, none of his aversion showing on the surface.
Pendford’s thin mouth turned in a sneer. “I have come for my children. I regret they put you to such trouble. Fordhouse is ill, and we need to return him to the institution where I placed him, to aid his recovery.” Pendford watched Gerard closely. He remained impassive. For the moment.
“My daughter needs employment, now she is a widow. I have made a good alliance for her, to Grasmere here. All it needs is her signature on the settlement and the marriage may take place without delay.”
He seemed in a hurry to arrange both matters. Deal with the boy, marry off the sister, and that left the field clear for the younger son. Neat. Without Faith, George would fall to pieces and with a new husband to look after, Faith could more easily be kept away. If Grasmere were less amenable than her previous husband, he could keep her away from the boy and hasten his descent into madness.
Gerard regarded him for a full minute before he addressed his father. “Have you apprised them of our plans, sir?”
“No. They arrived barely ten minutes ago. You may inform them, if you wish, my son.”
“Thank you.” He deliberately turned and stared at the keeper in the corner. This man was shaved and dressed respectably, unlike the turnkey they had met that day in Bedlam. “You are from the Bethlem Hospital?”
“Yes, my lord. I trust Lord Fordhouse has not caused you any trouble. The man who released him should never have done so. He has been dismissed.”
He was probably plying his trade at Newgate now. There wasn’t much difference between the two establishments, except that the garnishes at Newgate were probably better. “Have you visited Bedlam, Lord Pendford?”
“Why would I want to do that?” The man’s voice grated sharply on Gerard’s senses.
“To inspect the place where your son and heir was incarcerated,” Gerard suggested.
“No need. The place is the best for his kind.”
Gerard kept Pendford’s gaze, anger simmering deep inside. “I found him in the Incurables ward, dressed in rags, chained next to—�
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“Me,” came a soft voice from the door. Gerard hadn’t heard it open, but he didn’t need to turn around to know who stood there. “The boy was chained next to me, sir. I was erroneously placed in the establishment and Ellesmere arrived to rescue me. I will vouch that Fordhouse is no more mad than I am.”
“And you are?” Pendford lifted a haughty eyebrow.
With a soft swish of stiffened silk, he stepped forward and made his bow, low enough to mock. “Stretton.”
Pendford’s snort brought the sound of the farmyard to the elegant room, before two arbiters of fashion. “I’ve heard of you, sir. I doubt your sanity is sufficient to support my son.”
“Au contraire, I have documents at home to prove my sanity,” Stretton said. “I will support Fordhouse if he chooses to challenge you. I daresay most of the people he met recently would also support his claim.”
Pendford turned an accusing stare on Ellesmere. “You let him out?”
Gerard raised a brow. “Fordhouse has been good enough to accompany us on one or two social outings, yes. People have seen and conversed with him. Many would declare him sane.”
“Against the word of his doctors? Qualified men who have known him for years?” Gerard watched Pendford deliberately quell his anger, the flame in his eyes—so like her eyes—dampened. He was sorry for it. An angry man formed an easier target. “Indeed I am sorry for the trouble he has caused. Fordhouse has been a great disappointment to me, a great disappointment indeed. I hoped to put him in a place of safety. His own safety and other people’s, you understand.”
Before Gerard could speak, Faith crossed the room and thrust herself between the men. “Father, you know he is not mad. With help he can live a useful and productive life. He might even be happy,” she added in a soft voice which made Gerard yearn to drag her into his arms and offer her comfort.
Stretton stepped forward, but when Gerard exchanged a glance with him he nodded and waited.
“The boy isn’t capable of happiness,” Pendford growled. “Have him brought down and let’s be done with it.”
The duke raised a hand, staying the keeper’s progress to the door. “One moment, if you please. I believe Fordhouse is still in his chambers, but I will send a footman to inquire.” Soft-footed, he crossed the room, opened the door and exchanged a murmured conversation with the footman outside. Gerard hoped with all his heart his father had given the order to keep George in his room. This situation would plunge the boy out of his depth and drive him to the kind of distress that would only play into Pendford’s hands. Gerard determined to prevent that, for George’s sake and for his sister’s too.
Boscobel returned and gave no sign of his orders to the footman. When Gerard glanced at him, he saw nothing. Boscobel was playing with his cards close to his chest. His own game, as usual.
Pendford frowned but didn’t comment on the low-voiced conversation. He addressed his daughter. “Faith, you should be glad I’ve brought Grasmere. Few people would consider you now you’ve gone beyond the pale and run away, but Grasmere has come around. He’s willing to take you on. He has the papers. If you sign them, he can go to Doctor’s Commons and procure a special licence so you can marry before you leave London.”
“I do not wish to marry Sir Philip, Father.” Faith confronted the man directly for the first time since Gerard had entered the room. He mentally reached out to her, but her mind was closed. That didn’t surprise him. Faith would always wish to fight her own battles, he knew that much about her already. “I’m sorry to have caused you so much trouble, Sir Philip, but I do not wish to marry you.”
Sir Philip gave her a gap-toothed smile. “We’ve known each other for years, Faith. I can offer you a comfortable home. If you marry me, your father has promised to restore your portion.”
A bribe. The man was a fortune hunter. It made Gerard sick to think of that scrawny, unclean body anywhere near the bounties of Faith’s. Faced with one of her old suitors, Gerard wondered at her courage in marrying another such and honouring his memory after his death.
Gerard’s nostrils flared and he opened his mouth to protest, but before he did so, Boscobel intervened. “Lady Bradley has proved a charming addition to our household. She has become an instant hit in society. You might want to think again, Lord Pendford.” In the style he had come to know was the way his father worked, Gerard realized Boscobel was keeping Faith under his influence. He wouldn’t gladly let anyone go once he’d trapped them in his web.
Using Faith’s father’s title would force Pendford to use his own. A clever move, putting the man at a disadvantage. “Your grace, I prefer to see my daughter married to someone I know, and with whom I can trust her. Your hospitality is most gracious, but I am ashamed at the way she foisted herself on you. I must apologize for her presumption. I will take her off your hands now. She should not be here, as your guest.”
“She is my guest.” Gerard had rarely heard his sister’s voice so cold. Hauteur dripped from every syllable. “I would prefer that she remain here.”
Pendford bowed to Deborah. “She is a scheming child, has always been so. I don’t doubt she has made herself agreeable to you, my lady. Her clothes proclaim how much she owes you.”
“We were forced to procure her garments more appropriate to her station, since you had not done so,” Deborah said, not attempting to hide one iota of her disdain. “Be assured, sir, we will present you with a full accounting of the expense.”
Gerard watched, fascinated as the colour rushed into Pendford’s withered cheeks. “Since I neither asked nor wished my daughter to indulge herself in expensive folderols, I refuse any such accounting. You may take the items back, my lady, and call it quits. Faith will leave this house in the clothes she entered it.”
“I ordered them burned,” Deborah informed him. “They were verminous. If you do not wish for the bills, no matter, but I wish Lady Bradley to remain here with me.”
“Out of the question.” Pendford snapped. “She has a great deal to explain, and I would wish she do it away from here. We will collect Fordhouse and be on our way.”
He reached out and grasped Faith around her wrist, dragging her toward him.
Gerard felt a flash of alarm mind-to-mind, the first time Faith had called out to him in this interview, and knew it was instinctive. Her terror and her disgust struck him to the heart. Unable to bear any more, he stepped forward and put a restraining hand on Lord Pendford’s.
“You will let her go.” Pendford did not let her go. Without meaning to, Gerard voiced the longing he had locked inside himself earlier in the park and it came out in a way totally unexpected, even to him. “There has been a development. I would rather have waited for a more appropriate time, but I can see we will have to tell you now. Faith has done me the great honour of agreeing to be my wife. If Sir Philip wishes to pursue his claim, I shall sue for breach of promise.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing Pendford’s face freeze in horror. Shock filled the room, and then he felt his sister. Gerard? Is this true?
Overlaying them all was Faith, who finally opened to him. What are you doing?
Laying my claim. Even in his mind his voice sounded wolfish. He drew back, retaining her hand and placing it on his arm.
Where it belonged.
Shock numbed Faith’s senses. She had watched the tide of the argument rise and fall and realized few choices remained to her. Grasmere was as bad as Pendford, but with less funds, and much worse than Lord Bradley. She guessed her father had bribed Grasmere, a known lecher, to take her on in return for the money she would bring.
Now her mind spun with confusion. How could she marry Ellesmere? Was it a ruse?
She must have opened that mental door, for she heard his voice, soft in her head. Hush. We will discuss it later. For now, play along with me. Your father will not oppose this match. He would be mad to do so.
You cannot do this.
Why not? came the swift reply. You think I can stand back and let you sac
rifice yourself to this excuse for a man? Hold fast. We will come through this.
Boscobel watched them, his face frozen in a polite mask. She guessed there would be more trouble from that quarter, later. Ellesmere held his arm tight by his side, forcing her to keep her hand there, looped under his arm to rest on his wrist in a more intimate way than the approved mode.
Grasmere confronted Pendford, dark, bushy brows drawn over his pale blue eyes, his brow creased, his thin mouth tight and hard. “Did you know about this? Why did you waste my time in this way?”
Pendford ignored him. Faith watched him smooth his expression as his mind worked, saw his reasoning and realized he had decided against her when he settled a long, hard glare on her. But what previously would have sent her into a paroxysm of worry now didn’t concern her one whit. Gerard had forced her hand, but he’d given her a way to get away. With the help of this powerful family, she could escape and take George with her.
“I cannot permit it,” Pendford said flatly.
She gave him a tiny, dipped curtsey. “I don’t need your permission, sir,” she said. The curtsey acted as a reminder that she owed him respect as her father, but her words told him that she owed him nothing else.
“I expect any suitor for your hand to consult me first.” He spoke directly to her, ignoring her putative fiancé and his family. “While you must feel flattered, you will decline this offer and return home. You do not belong here, and neither does your brother.”
Faith felt the response bubbling inside her and couldn’t have stopped it if she’d tried. Laughter burst forth. “You think I’ll reject Lord Ellesmere in favour of your choice?” Shock slammed into her father, his eyes widening, his jaw dropping. She was glad. It was time he knew what it felt like to be humiliated and degraded in front of strangers. “Father, I’m old enough to make my own decisions. Before I married Bradley you promised me I should have whom I chose next. Well, I choose Ellesmere. Gerard,” she added in a softer tone, daringly using his name in public for the first time.
Shock made her father raise his hand to her, something he would not have dreamed of doing in public, though she had felt his blows often enough in private. He swung it, and she stood waiting, but before the impact there two people—no, three, put themselves between her and her father. Ellesmere, Boscobel and Stretton all stood in front of her.
Lightning Unbound: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1 Page 9
