Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord

by Sandra Sookoo

  Felix remained quiet for so long, she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he said, “If it were me in your position, I’d want answers too. Although, if I were you, I’d cling to my aristocratic French roots.” He allowed his gaze to travel the length of her body. “It’s something to be proud of.”

  She trembled as though she felt that slow caress.

  Finally, she couldn’t stand the suspense or his silence. “What will I owe you?” That look could only mean one thing. “If you have a notion that I’ll become your mistress, let me disabuse you of that idea straightaway.” Clarice glared. She refused to encourage her desire for him. Hadn’t her mother always told her that lust and nothing else would attract a man’s attention?

  “I wish you wouldn’t keep thinking the worst of me.” He popped one of the raspberries into his mouth then chewed and swallowed. “Consider it a good deed, and rest assured, I don’t plan to take advantage. If doing this will make you happy, that’s all I require.”

  “Thank you.” She set her teacup in its saucer as her hand shook. “Though I don’t understand why you would care about my happiness, my lord.”

  “Let’s just say you’re not the only one who is curious about things.” He moved his chair closer to her. “I’d prefer you to use my given name. I’ve already given you leave to say it. Please know I will not make another advance.” As he held her gaze, his twinkled with mischief. “Unless you invite me to do so.”

  “That would be highly improper.” She couldn’t help thinking what a real kiss with him would feel like. She frowned. Would letting down her guard be the first step to walking the same path as her mother? After all, being a fallen woman had to start with a single kiss. Yet, he’d just offered to arrange it so she could see her father. Surely a man bent on tumbling a woman into bed wouldn’t put himself to that much bother. Her breath caught. Her lips tingled as if he had indeed kissed her. Tread carefully, she warned herself.

  “Improper by whose standard?” He lifted a fruit tart from the tray. “What is it you fear the most, Clarice? Crossing class lines in order to satisfy your own curiosity or coming to care for a man who is most inappropriate?”

  “I’m not certain.” Was she coming to care for him? The rapid beat of her heart and the wild flutter of her stomach told her nothing. It could merely be desire, and that would only lead to bad places. Her thoughts scattered while Felix methodically plucked fresh gooseberries and raspberries from the tart. He dipped a forefinger into the pale pastry cream then put the finger into his mouth and sucked it off. She couldn’t take her gaze from his sensual lips and the way they closed around his finger. Her pulse accelerated. Tiny tremors bounced through her lower belly and collided with the familiar bands of fear. “Oh my.”

  “It’s very tasty. I encourage you to try it.” He slid the tart shell toward her. “Enjoy. There’s nothing better than sharing a sweet with a beautiful woman.”

  The tingles in her insides increased. Clarice swirled a forefinger into the pastry cream then licked the thick treat. She smiled. Traces of cognac lingered on her tongue amidst the sweetness. It reminded her of childhood days on picnics with her mother. “Mmm. I long ago learned how to make this.” She wasn’t a vain woman, but there were times when she ached to hear a compliment from a man. Encouraging him in such an endeavor wouldn’t brand her as fallen. “You find me attractive?”

  “Very, and the fact you are not overly aware of it makes you even more so.” He scooted his chair closer, and when his knee knocked against hers, tingles shot up her leg. “Why do you think I attempted to kiss you yesterday?”

  “You apologized for that.” Again, she slid her gaze to his mouth. She adored the half smile that lifted one side of his lips. What would it take for a full-fledged grin to bloom?

  “I did, but that doesn’t negate me from wishing I had another chance to do it up right. I find I cannot rid myself of the notion or the wish to know you better.”

  “Oh.” She dipped her finger into the pastry cream once more and held it aloft. “Well, you did say you wouldn’t unless I gave permission.”

  “I did.” Felix gently encircled her wrist with his fingers and drew her hand toward him. “Perhaps I can coax your permission in a non-threatening way.”

  When he guided her cream-topped finger into his mouth, Clarice’s jaw slacked. Warmth enveloped her digit as he swirled his tongue around it. Shivery sensation slid up her arm and landed in the pit of her stomach then continued further down to tickle between her thighs. “Oh.” He sucked the last of the cream from her finger and slipped it from his mouth. “That feels wonderful, and…” The sensations he invoked, coupled with his close proximity, made her feel like flying. Any moment now she’d melt into a heap at his feet from heated sensation. None of the men her mother had brought home had made her feel like laughing and crying at once. “You are quite potent and dangerous to a woman’s peace of mind.”

  “I only wish to corrupt one woman.” He winked and even more flutters crowded her belly.

  Her mother’s words leaped into her mind. One day you’ll meet a man who will look at you with wickedness in his eyes. He will smile softly and touch you in such a gentle way you’ll promise him anything. This is not love, but it is something better and much more real.

  She trembled. Was that what she felt for Felix? Lust? The idea of it made panic climb her spine. It wasn’t what she wished from him or for herself. Why couldn’t she aspire to more?

  “Do I have your permission for a kiss now, Clarice?” he asked in little more than a whisper.

  “I’m…” She forced moisture into her suddenly dry throat. “I’m not certain.” How could she think of doing anything when the warmth from his mouth lingered on her finger? If she encouraged him, would that make her like her mother or give Felix the wrong impression?

  “Ah.” Felix stroked the inside of her arm with his free hand. He turned her arm over and placed a fleeting kiss on her knuckle. “What is this?” His gaze landed on the red mark she’d received from Lady Drummond’s crop. “How did you injure yourself?”

  “I…” If she told him of Olivia’s abuse, there was a strong possibility he’d not believe her. “It’s nothing. I wasn’t paying attention and banged my arm into the corner of a table.” Please don’t ask me any more questions!

  “Somehow, I don’t believe you, my dear, but I’ll let the matter slide.” He smiled and the warmth from the gesture washed away the ugliness of remembering Lady Drummond’s punishment. “I still want that kiss. Perhaps some additional persuasion then?” While chill bumps raced over her skin, he placed baby kisses on the sensitive inside of her arm. He stood and pulled her up with him, continuing his kisses along the side of her throat and the underside of her chin.

  Clarice floated on a cloud of feeling. She gave herself over to the clean scent of him and the fleeting touch of his fingers and lips on her skin. Would he kiss her mouth or did he mean to continue his teasing? Oh, she did so wish he’d press his lips to hers. His breath steamed her cheek. He was so close she discerned the faint lines at the corners of his eyes.

  “What is your answer? I cannot move forward without a word from you.”

  She huffed, annoyed at both her feelings for him and his flirting. Just this once she wanted to experience a kiss born of something more than lust, and if the wicked twinkle in his eye meant anything, it was that. Except, he wasn’t acting like a man with only bedding on his mind. “One kiss and that’s it, you naughty boy.” She didn’t care if she sounded too much like her mother. The need to feel his lips against hers was too strong. In the agonizing seconds it took for Felix to cup her face and fit his mouth to hers, she gave up worrying that passion had probably guided his actions the day before or that anyone on the street could see them if they happened to glance through the window. It didn’t matter. Nothing did except giving in and experiencing this man’s kiss.

  His lips were soft but determined as they moved over hers. She closed her eyes, letting the fleeting touch surr
ound her. He didn’t seek to deepen the embrace or push for greater access; he simply teased her mouth with tenderness as if gaining an introduction, familiarizing himself.

  It was so sweet and gentle, and so very unexpected and out of character from the gropes and attempts at kisses from the men her mother had introduced her to, that she sighed and pressed closer to his body as his free hand went around her waist. She knew next to nothing about him, yet the kiss left her breathless and wanting more. Perhaps the only fact any two people needed to know was a corresponding need and a shared regard.

  A sneeze on the stairs and the tap-tap of heels striking the hardwood penetrated the haze she’d fallen into. Clarice put her palms against the hard wall of Felix’s chest and shoved. He tightened his arm. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm, but she shoved harder. “Lady Drummond is coming. You must leave.”

  “I refuse to run away as if I have done something to be ashamed of.” The annoyance in his voice proclaimed him every inch the lord he was.

  As she collapsed onto her chair, her gaze landed on the front of his breeches. A slight bulge betrayed his interest and set off shivers down her spine. “Then put yourself to rights.” She gave him a pointed stare. A heated wave of pleasure swept over her to know their kiss had affected him then vanished just as quickly as cold fear shot through her insides. Did that mean he’d call on her now for bed sport? Hot tears prickled the backs of her eyelids. She most certainly didn’t want a repeat of that embrace if it meant she’d follow her mother’s path, but oh how wonderful it had been. For a few glorious seconds that kiss had made her hopes of settling down and perhaps starting a family seem possible. It made her believe, however briefly, that she could be loved.

  A flush crept up his neck. “Perhaps you’re right. I’m a bit… out of sorts.” Felix pulled his chair to its original spot then sat and arranged a linen napkin over his lap, but the heat didn’t die in his eyes. “Clarice, I want to ask you—”

  “No.” She didn’t want to know, couldn’t bear it if he intended to ask her to be his mistress.

  “Truly, I think you’re misinterpreting me and—”

  Lady Drummond swept into the tasting room. Her hair was a tiny bit wild and high color stained her cheeks. “How wonderfully coincidental to find you here, Lord Swandon.” She glanced at him then at Clarice with narrowed eyes while patting an escaped tendril into place. “I trust you’ve been the gentleman?”

  Fear tightened Clarice’s stomach. Does she know what transpired?

  “Yes, well, these things happen, Lady Drummond. Imagine me enjoying chocolate or a pastry every now and again, the same as Clarice.” Felix rose, careful to hold his napkin close. “And yes, I was a gentleman, more’s the pity. Who can say what would have happened had we remained alone?”

  Clarice gaped at him. He’d used her given name in front of Lady Drummond plus he regretted her interruption. Did he wish to land her in the soup even more?

  “Indeed. I’ll be sure to discuss this little visit with Clarice later.”

  Cold fingers of fear wrapped around Clarice’s insides. Dear God, would she use the crop again? She wanted to blurt out the truth of Lady Drummond’s temper, the secret of her fortune, everything she knew of the woman, but feared Felix would offer to protect her for all the wrong reasons. I can take care of myself, can I not?

  Lines appeared around Olivia’s mouth as she pursed her lips and darted her gaze between them. “Good news, Clarice. Pierre knows the whereabouts of Mr. Fournier. As luck would have it, he’ll be at the party we’re attending on Saturday as he is in Lord Landry’s employ. I shall endeavor to make certain you renew your association with him.”

  Felix cleared his throat. Surprise lit his expression. “You are spoken for?”

  “No.” Clarice shook her head. She hated how the light faded from his eyes. “He is an acquaintance—”

  “An old beau, actually,” Olivia rejoined. She linked her arm with Felix’s. “I know you wanted her for a plaything, dear boy, but she really needs to stick with men of her own station. Shall we walk a bit? It seems an age since I had you all to myself. I’m anxious to spend time with you.”

  He looked at Clarice, and the crestfallen expression on his face tugged at her heart. “Perhaps that would be best, though I am on my way to Parliament. My free time is limited.” Felix threw his napkin onto the table and left the room with Olivia.

  Clarice stared after them. The knot in her belly grew. She didn’t like the shrewd light in Lady Drummond’s eye. “How could I have been so stupid?” She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, still tasting the pastry cream. The warmth of Felix’s kiss lingered as well. A sigh escaped her as she remembered the remainder of her mother’s conversation from that long ago day.

  Love is cold, Clarice, but lust keeps you warm. Men will do anything for it. They will offer you the world to remain wrapped in it. And only a skilled courtesan can command it. Never fall in love, for it will make you weak and powerless. It is fleeting. Love gives you nothing in return except heartache. Men don’t want love and will do anything to avoid it, so always give them enough pleasure that they’ll remain devoted.

  She wished her mother had taught her how to tell the difference between what lust and love felt like. Another sigh escaped. How had life become so complicated?

  Chapter Five

  Felix paced the length of his study. He’d been blue-deviled all morning knowing time ticked down until he’d need to escort his mother and sister to the same Saturday event Lady Drummond and Clarice were attending. Not only that, but now it appeared Clarice had a love interest she hadn’t revealed before.

  Why would she? He’d only met her a few times and for less than an hour each. They were barely acquaintances. She owed him nothing, yet after she’d shared intimate details of her father’s identity, he had expected she’d mentioned this little sticking point as well. He snickered, changed course, and headed toward the credenza behind his desk. Bah. Perhaps they were merely acquaintances who’d shared a kiss. Two, as a matter of fact, but both had been very brief and not as satisfying as he would have liked. That kiss from yesterday had such potential. It was outside of enough Lady Drummond had come along when she had. Grumbling about the annoyances of being interrupted, he poured a measure of brandy and drank it down straightaway.

  All week long, when he should have been concentrating on Parliament business, he’d caught himself more than once day dreaming about Clarice and how soft and supple her lips had been or how nice she’d felt during the brief instant he’d embraced her at the confectionary. He’d missed a speech by Lord Wynesford on the importance of maintaining trade relations because he’d been remembering the look of surprise and pleasure in her expression when he’d licked the pastry cream from her finger, but there had also been traces of fear in her eyes. Why? He’d watched an elderly member give a speech but couldn’t recall the nature or topic since he’d been scheming for a way to be in Clarice’s company again. By mid-week, he’d taken himself firmly in hand and managed to ignore the fascinating Frenchwoman in order to tend to business. He had a duty to his country, and he’d damn well do it if it killed him.

  The problem hadn’t gone away, for here he was on yet another Saturday, on the cusp of leaving for an afternoon of entertainment where Clarice would be, but there would be no opportunity or even a reason for him to go near her—especially if she were well and truly spoken for. Damn and blast! It was inconceivable he’d landed in such a coil.

  Felix shoved a hand through his hair, upsetting the carefully-styled locks his valet had spent a quarter of an hour fashioning. He heaved a sigh, poured another measure of brandy, then brought the snifter to his lips just as his sister swept into the room. Her pink gown, embroidered with rosebuds and green leaves around the bodice and sleeves, set off her hair and eyes to perfection. In the right circumstances and with the right gentleman, she would be a force of nature.

  “Drinking, Felix?” Charlotte eyed his glass askance. “You’ll be foxed before we
ever arrive at the Landry’s house.” She trained her gaze on him and the Darrington-blue hue caught the midday sunlight that streamed through the window. “Are you quite well? You’ve seemed at sixes and sevens for a week.”

  Oh, the irony of that question. Sixes and sevens over a woman he barely knew but kissed twice.

  Felix sipped his brandy. “I fear I am not quite well. I’ve been preoccupied since coming to town, and I find I miss the quiet of Kent.” If he’d never left Kent for London, he would have never met Clarice and life would have continued on as he’d been accustomed. Once again his mind dwelled on the Frenchwoman. How could life ever be the same now that she’d entered his life? If he returned to Kent now, she’d still haunt him. He rubbed a hand along his jaw.

  “If you miss it so badly, you could always go back for Christmas. Take a holiday of sorts.” Charlotte crossed the room and closed the distance. She removed the glass from his hand and sipped, swallowing the liquor without even a wince. “However, I doubt missing the country is the crux of your discontent.”

  “Be that as it may, I’m not at liberty to discuss it right now.” He lifted an eyebrow as she finished the contents of the glass. Did she often steal nips when no one was looking? “Mother would frown if she found out you’ve developed a penchant for drinking.” Felix took the glass from her and replaced it on the tray.

  “What Mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, I learned to appreciate spirits from Father years ago. It was our little joke.” A smile parted her lips. “What is bedeviling you? It’s not Mother, is it? She can be overbearing and managing, but she means well.”

  “Right at this moment, no, it’s not Mother.” Although, part of his current ennui could be laid on her doorstep. If she hadn’t demanded he put his domestic house in order… Although, she’d get her comeuppance if he offered for Clarice. Some marriages had been built on much less than what they shared. Mother would most definitely not approve of Clarice in general or her pedigree in particular, but would Clarice’s claim to a French comte make a difference? “Devil take it, my duty and my family will be the death of me.” He should announce his intention of courting Clarice and damn the consequences. Never had a woman gotten under his skin as completely and quickly as she did, so what harm could it do?