A Clandestine Courtship

by Allison Lane

  Or so that insidious voice insisted. She couldn’t get rid of the plaguey thing, proving that James had already seduced her conscience. Would her body be next?

  “Scandalous!” hissed Miss Hardaway from the next chair. “I never thought to see your charges waltzing.”

  “Nor I, but I could hardly refuse them permission to dance with their betrotheds, and Justin had already agreed.”

  “Of course a man would agree,” said Miss Hardaway. “My sister in Southampton tells me scandalous tales about officers.”

  “Who is betrothed?” interrupted Miss Sharpe. “Why was I not told?”

  “She never remembers anything.” Miss Hardaway sounded pleased.

  “Amelia has accepted Mr. Crenshaw, and Caroline is to wed Sir Edwin,” Mary explained. “Those are the gentlemen who are dancing with them right now.”

  “How delighted you must be.” Miss Sharpe actually clapped her hands.

  “Quite.”

  “You should have remembered,” said Miss Hardaway chidingly. “I’ve already told you three times.”

  But Mary knew the gossip didn’t mind. Miss Sharpe’s failing memory provided a perpetual audience for her tales.

  She wrenched her eyes from the dancers. James was twirling Miss Lawton around the room. The girl was an exquisite beauty despite her minimal breeding. He seemed enchanted.

  One hand had closed into a fist, so she deliberately relaxed it.

  Miss Hardaway repeated the latest gossip, with Miss Sharpe’s shrieks of surprise and wails of sorrow punctuating each story. Mary listened without comment, but none of the tales explained why the sabotage to James’s phaeton had gone unnoticed.

  James led her out for their country dance. By the time they had completed one pattern, she was grateful it was not a waltz. Every touch of his hand burned through her gloves. Every brush of his body weakened her knees until she feared she would collapse. Warmth burned her cheeks, posting her thoughts for all to read.

  “You seem overheated. Shall we find some lemonade?” he asked when the set concluded. “And perhaps a corner where we can talk privately for just a moment?”

  She nodded, praying that he would attribute her flush to an unusually warm evening. But he was too good at reading her mind for her to believe it.

  “Have you learned something new?” she asked when they had retired to Lady Redfield’s morning room.

  “Not exactly, but I did some thinking after leaving you yesterday. If I hadn’t been so furious over the attack, I would have realized it sooner. Only someone who lived in town could have cut that axle.”

  “Why?” She concentrated on her lemonade, ignoring his shoulders, which stretched even wider under an elegant wine-colored jacket trimmed in black velvet. Tonight’s cravat jewel was a ruby.

  “To inflict the damage, the culprit had to crawl underneath my phaeton – and probably lie on the ground. But that corner was rather muddy. Who would risk it unless they had clean clothes nearby?”

  “A very good argument. Who knew you would be in town that day?”

  “No one. It was a decision I made after leaving the Court. I had originally intended to call on Isaac.”

  “So the attack was spontaneous. Could Barnes have reached that corner without being spotted by one of the grooms?”

  “Not unless something distracted the entire stable staff.”

  She sighed. “Miss Hardaway was recounting gossip just now, but none of the tales would have done so.” The words were almost random because he was staring at her mouth. She ought to walk over and look out the window, but her feet seemed stuck to the floor.

  “What was the most exciting story?” he asked, then slowly licked his lips.

  What? Mesmerized by the seductive passage of his tongue, she had no idea what he’d said. Had he asked her a question? She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape the heat pouring through her body. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

  “I want to kiss you, Mary.”

  She clenched both hands around her glass to keep from stroking his chest. The ruby pulsed in the candlelight, inviting her touch, promising fiery pleasure and ecstasy beyond imagining.

  “I am asking permission,” he continued softly, sliding close enough to lift her chin with the tip of one finger. “You need not fear me, now or ever. I would never hurt you.”

  She raised her eyes, but saw only longing in his. There was none of the cruel calculation she had once spotted when Frederick looked at a new maid.

  “Please, Mary?” He offered his hand.

  Fear curled in her stomach, but she could not deny him. Slowly she set down the glass and laid a hand in his. Gently he drew it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her wrist where he had flicked open two buttons on her glove. His other hand stroked down the side of her neck and across her shoulder.

  Despite her high-necked gown, she shivered.

  “One kiss?”

  She nodded, expecting a repeat of the kiss in the garden. But it wasn’t.

  He brushed his lips across her mouth, exhaling gently. It was she who turned back for more, who demanded a second touch, then a third.

  He nibbled experimentally, making her lips tingle with excitement. She increased the pressure. Her hand slipped around his neck as she stretched on tiptoe to better reach his mouth. The movement brought her against his body, sending sparks stabbing through each breast. Rubbing against his chest created delightful sensations.

  He groaned.

  His tongue swirled lightly, slipping behind her lips to tease and beg. Fire burst along her veins; every muscle trembled. Whimpering for more, she opened her mouth.

  Dear God. He thrust inside, conquering even as he playfully invited participation. The yearning grew until she could barely contain it. Heat collected in a wet pool between her legs.

  A stab of fear quickly fled, for he was not constraining her. One hand rested lightly on her hip. The other moved slowly up her back, leaving warmth in its wake.

  He was trembling and taut as a bow string. And hard. That part of him strained against her. Another spurt of fear coursed through her mind. Would he lose control and attack?

  But again the fear drained away. He used no coercion, instead enticing her with pleasure and sultry promises. She could not pull back. The yearning was too powerful. His touch felt too good.

  Merciful heavens, I trust him!

  It was James who finally eased away. “That is enough for now,” he murmured, his voice husky. “More than enough. But I will leave you with one last thought. Lovemaking is life’s greatest joy. It can be wild and frenzied or soft and sweet. But it should never frighten or inflict pain. You know what I want, but I swear on my honor as a gentleman that I will never hurt you.”

  With that, he slipped out of the room.

  Mary collapsed on a couch. What was she to do? And not just about his desire. He had made it clear that he had more honorable intentions than merely bedding her.

  How could she give herself to any man? It would put her in his power, giving him control of her life.

  Yet how could she live alone after knowing him? She wanted him. If he had pressed, she would have gone to him without pause. His touch had banished the fear – for the moment. Was it a trick?

  She was caught on the horns of dilemma. Her plans were made. But leaving sounded less desirable than ever before. That idyllic cottage no longer looked so peaceful.

  It looked lonely.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  James stared at the note. It was succinct, but unsigned.

  I know who killed your brother, but if he sees us together, he will kill me, too. Meet me in the old mill at dusk.

  He frowned.

  How had it gotten onto his desk? Forbes denied accepting delivery, as did the footmen. On the other hand, there were so many ways in and out of the Court, anyone could have slipped in.

  So who had written it?

  Not the miller. Tate had died well before John’s murder – which made the mill an
ideal place for a clandestine meeting.

  Or for a trap.

  Yet he could not ignore such tantalizing bait. Exposing the killer would resolve many of his problems. On the other hand, the man had already made two attempts on his life, so he had to be careful.

  The most important precaution would be avoiding an ambush. To that end, he would arrive early and hide until the informant appeared. If the man was one of his suspects, he would remain hidden, talking from the safety of his shelter.

  But even that wasn’t enough. He had no idea how obsessed the killer was or what he had planned. His actions had been inconsistent. Frederick had been knocked senseless and pushed over a cliff. But John had been bound, tortured, then stabbed repeatedly. Was such rage directed personally at John, or had it built up after six months of brooding over the killer’s grievance?

  More importantly, how angry was he now? So far, the attempts had been more like Frederick, but each failure would have increased his frustration. Would he explode into another murderous frenzy? One well-placed rock would leave him at the man’s mercy. So he must take Harry and Edwin along.

  Thus he needed hiding places for three men. He hadn’t been inside the building for more than twenty years – and it could have changed drastically since Tate’s death. If the grinding stones had been removed – common practice when abandoning a mill – he might be facing a nearly empty room.

  Slipping the note into his pocket, he called for his horse. He would pay a quick visit to the mill. If the interior offered no concealment, he must devise an alternate plan.

  The mill was several miles down the valley, reached most quickly by cutting through Northfield’s woods. Since Harry and Edwin were visiting the Manor, he did not expect to run into anyone, so he was surprised when Northrup approached. The baron looked less than pleased to encounter him.

  “Would you prefer that I not use the shortcut?” he asked.

  Northrup’s face flushed. “Of course not. You are welcome to ride here anytime. After all, we often cut through your woods to reach town.”

  James nodded. “Then what is troubling you?”

  “I was heading for Ridgeway. I must ask your intentions toward Mary.” He sounded apologetic, his youth making the question almost impudent.

  “I mean her no harm.”

  “Perhaps, but you could harm her nonetheless. She is vulnerable just now.”

  “Why? She was not attached to Frederick, is accustomed to being in charge, and is quite definite in her opinions.”

  “True, but her life is in turmoil. Whatever his failings, Frederick’s death means tremendous change for her.” Northrup met his eyes squarely. “I will not pretend he was a good man, for I knew him too well. Escaping him was one of my reasons for buying colors.”

  “So Lady Northrup said.”

  “By vulnerable, I meant that she faces many adjustments. As good as her stewardship has been, I must oversee my own property. Those who have condemned her for taking on a man’s job hail my actions as proof of her incompetence, reviving all the malicious gossip that has plagued her for years – much of it started by your brother. Your attentions are making it worse, for most people believe you had an affair with her ten years ago. Why else would an earl’s son befriend a vicar’s daughter? Some think you left because she tried to force you into marriage to make up for losing George.”

  “False. Every word of it.”

  “I believe you, though few will. Which is why you should cease calling on her. Rumors already claim that you have resumed the affair. Several people noted your absence from the party last night. She has borne more than her share of insults in past years. I won’t have her hurt again.”

  “Nor I, but I will not allow petty gossip to dictate my behavior.”

  “A pretty vow, but it disregards the affect on Mary.”

  “I will not hurt her, but neither will I be blackmailed into avoiding her.”

  “Why?”

  “Three reasons. The first is practical – she is helping me investigate John’s murder, and has discovered information I would not have found on my own. The second is perverse – I refuse to give the Bridwells even a temporary victory; they will be leaving soon, and I will see that everyone learns why they knowingly repeated lies.”

  Northrup’s eyes widened, so he explained Bridwell’s background before continuing. “My third reason is personal – I have every intention of wedding Mary, but she would refuse me if I offered just now. She is still scarred by Frederick’s abuse.”

  He nodded. “And has not forgotten your brother’s attack.”

  “I know he tried to seduce her when she was sixteen, but Mary said nothing about an attack. What do you know of it?”

  “I was there.” He sighed. “I was hiding in the woods to escape punishment for fighting with Frederick. Since I was up a tree, they did not see me.”

  James nodded in encouragement as Northrup paused.

  “John stopped her as she returned from visiting one of the tenants – right about there, actually.” He nodded toward a small clearing twenty feet away. “He first claimed to be you, but she laughed and told him he was a miserable liar. That did not sit well.”

  “It wouldn’t.”

  “He tried to talk her into a kiss, but she refused, citing an urgent errand. When she backed away from a caress, he pressed her. So she compared him unflatteringly to you. That’s when his mood shifted from flirtatious to nasty.”

  “I am not surprised.” Cold clenched his heart. John had needed to be better than everyone – especially his twin. But Mary would not have known that at so tender an age.

  “I had seen that same change often enough in Father to know what it meant. When he made his next grab, I started down, thinking maybe I could help her. But she took care of him herself, planting a vicious knee in his privates and cracking him in the temple with her basket. It must have contained something heavy, because he dropped like a rock. She fled. Since my help was no longer needed, I stayed in the tree, fearful of attracting his attention. By the time he recovered enough to leave, she was long gone. The rumors started that very day, accusing her of loose behavior.”

  And not just because she had bested him, James realized, though that would have been unforgivable on its own. She had seen through his impersonation in an instant – the only one who had done so. Thus he had to discredit her lest she expose his imposture. And he would have made sure his twin’s reputation was worse than his own so no one would ever again compare them unfavorably.

  “Some of the rumors were about me?”

  He nodded. “Those came later. The first tales claimed she had thrown herself at John, enticing him into a lusty affair. Two years passed before the ones about you started.”

  “All false.”

  “I know. Anyone who considered the tales impartially must realize that they are suspicious.”

  “Yet few ever question gossip, which is why I must reveal John’s lies and Bridwell’s collusion.”

  Northrup frowned. “Then I must also ask about a tale I heard in India.”

  What was this? he wondered sharply. He had had more than one confrontation with East India officials who disapproved of his trading. The last one had led to a rumor claiming that he had arranged Ashwini’s death to deprive a valued customer of those gems. False, of course, as even the customer had agreed – he’d probably been behind the theft himself. Now he suspected that Rigby had taken advantage of every opportunity to tarnish his reputation abroad.

  “When I first arrived in India, I heard tales about many Englishmen. Because your name was familiar, those concerning you stuck in my mind.”

  “They would.”

  “One claimed that you fathered a boy on your mistress, but when she demanded that you take them back to England and acknowledge him, you struck out in anger and killed them both.”

  “That is one I have not heard before.” It took an effort to control his voice. “It must have started after I left.”

  “Perhap
s.”

  “It is a very twisted version of the truth. There was a mistress, and there was a child, though neither was mine.” He named an army officer.

  Northrup’s eyes darkened. “I begin to see. He was a credit neither to the regiment nor to humanity.”

  “Was?”

  “He died in battle, to no one’s regret.”

  “He tossed the girl out when she disclosed her condition. Her family refused her a roof, so I took her on as a maid. When I decided to return to England, I made arrangements for her and the child to emigrate, but they succumbed to cholera a month before they were to sail.”

  Northrup nodded. “I will mention that to Mary – I related the original tale on returning home.” He ignored James’s grimace. “And if you truly care for her, you have my blessing. But don’t hurt her.”

  He left, continuing toward town.

  James relaxed his fists. Poor Mary. She had been ill-used for years. If only he had identified his attachment earlier, he would have taken her with him into exile. His love had sprung up long before his return. The seeds had been sown ten years ago, but he hadn’t been thinking in those terms. And anger and grief had clouded his mind even further.

  Somehow he would make it up to her. As soon as he finished this business – which he hoped would be today – he could concentrate on calming her remaining fears.

  A tenant passed, doffing his cap, then a farmer and the midwife. As he rounded the next corner, he again jumped. This path seemed as crowded as Park Row during the fashionable hour. Mary pulled her horse to a stop and smiled. Who was chaperoning her sisters?

  “Harry and Edwin took the girls for a carriage ride,” she answered.

  He must have spoken aloud. “My apologies. I did not mean to impugn your manners, but I just passed Northrup, so I was surprised to see you.”

  “Were you coming to Northfield?”

  “Not this time. I was heading for the mill.”

  “Have you found a new miller?”

  “I can hardly do so without checking the condition of the building. John had authorized no repairs in ten years.” But his evasion did not fool her. She could read his mind as easily as he could read hers.