For a moment, the merriment in his blue eyes captivated her, but she mustn’t allow him to draw her in with his games. “You will address me properly,” she said.
“Lady Chesfield,” he said in a rumbling voice.
“I’m not a child and neither are you.”
“I wasn’t referring to child’s play.”
He was much too close, so she moved over. “I assume you called for a reason.”
“Yes, I called regarding your son.”
“He is my responsibility, not yours,” she said.
“Then you’re not interested in his whereabouts last night.”
“He spent the evening reading, not that it is any of your concern.”
“Really? What is he reading?”
“Pilgrim’s Progress. It was his punishment for being disobedient.”
He shook his head. “He may have been at home early in the evening, but I left White’s after midnight and saw your son a block away. He and his friends were drinking from a flask again.”
Denial rose up inside her. Justin had promised to stop rebelling. “Are you certain it was my son? You saw him only the one time.”
“I’m certain. I recognized his friends and the curricle.”
She covered her mouth. Justin had lied. He’d broken his promises again.
Bellingham frowned. “I regret having to inform you, but given Montclief’s threats, I felt it was the right thing to do.”
She lowered her hand slowly and laced her nerveless fingers. “It is not news that I welcome, but thank you for telling me.”
“What will you do?” he asked.
“Take him home to Hampshire immediately. He’s left me no choice.”
Bellingham leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. His silence made her uncomfortable, but she suspected he was the type to think things through before speaking.
At last he sat back. “It isn’t wise to leave town suddenly. Montclief’s friends are acting as his spies. They’re certain to mark your son’s absence, and then your brother-in-law will know you encountered trouble again.”
“If I stay and Justin continues to rebel, Montclief is sure to hear about it,” she said. “I have two choices, and neither is appealing.”
“There are always more alternatives.”
“By all means tell me, because my vexation is growing by the moment.”
He stood and walked over to the window. She turned sideways to watch him. He was tall and lean. Remembering the hard contours of his body, she assumed he was fitter than most men. His angular jaw and cheekbones seemed sharper in the patch of sunlight bathing him. When he faced her, his blue eyes held a fierce expression. “I never intended to become involved beyond returning that flask.”
She frowned. “You are under no obligation.”
He paced back and forth in front of the window. His restlessness puzzled her. It was as if he were waging some inner battle with himself. “Yes, I am.”
She shook her head. “How so?”
He halted. “You told Montclief that I would oversee your son’s activities, and I did not refute you.”
“I would have promised anything to keep my son, as you are well aware. Believe me, I appreciate what you did the day Montclief called, but you are not obliged.”
“After I left that day, I’d intended to walk away and never return here. Then I saw your son last night.” He clenched his jaw.
“You did it for my benefit, and I thank you for it, but I will not hold you to a promise that was born of coercion on my part.”
“I was not coerced. My agreement was implied.”
“Then I release you from any obligation, implicit or otherwise.”
He fisted his hands on his hips. “If something happens to the boy, I’ll feel that I failed him.”
“But—”
“It’s a matter of honor,” he said. “To be honest, I have a low opinion of Montclief. He would make a terrible guardian for your son.”
“I agree. He’s done nothing to help Justin, but given his nasty temperament, I’ve always figured it was for the best.”
“If you take your son home, will your family defend you if Montclief comes for him?”
She hesitated. “I…I don’t think Montclief really wants him.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He’d spoken in a severe manner. “My father is a vicar. He would not prevent his legal guardian from taking Justin. Papa would consider that breaking the law and therefore a sin.”
“Then don’t take your son home.”
“We must return eventually,” she said.
“If you leave now, Montclief will know something is wrong. Wait a few more weeks.”
She pressed her nails into her palms. “I fear that would give Justin more opportunity to find trouble.”
“Where is he?”
“I checked on him earlier. He was sleeping.”
He glanced at the mantel clock. “It’s two o’clock. Why haven’t you awakened him?”
“I tried, but it was fruitless. It isn’t unusual for adolescents to sleep late.”
Bellingham’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making excuses for him.”
“I am not,” she said. “How dare you?” Of course, she’d made an excuse because she didn’t appreciate his arrogance.
Bellingham crossed the room and loomed over her. “Then why is your son still in bed?”
She shot off the sofa. “Leave this instant.”
“You’re only angry because you don’t want to admit I’m right.”
“I want you to quit my drawing room, and I do not want you involved in my affairs ever again,” she said.
He released a long sigh. “I am a blunt man. It is not my nature to soften the truth, because it never helps.”
She smoothed her skirt. “Perhaps the truth is more helpful when it does not humiliate the other person.”
“Laura, look at me.”
She lifted her gaze to him. “Lady Chesfield,” she insisted. “And I do not like your methods.”
“Make no mistake. That boy has the upper hand, and he knows it. If you do not get control over him, he will find trouble, and Montclief will take him.”
“I’m well aware of the consequences,” she said. “Justin, however, doesn’t seem to take his uncle’s threats seriously.”
“Your son needs a jolt, immediately.”
“What are you planning?” she asked.
“Leave it to me. He’ll learn his lesson.”
“He is my son. This is none of your affair.”
“Frankly, I’m tired of encountering him on the street. He needs to be curbed.”
“I will not allow you to use physical punishment,” she said.
Bellingham scoffed. “No doubt Justin would prefer having his knuckles rapped, as it’s temporary, whereas my idea of punishment requires him to change his behavior—if he wishes to leave the town house.”
“He will just walk out the door,” she said.
“Please excuse me. I will return shortly.”
She hurried after Bellingham. “What are you doing? You cannot just take over without consulting me.”
He ignored her and started down the stairs. She followed close behind until they crossed the great hall and entered the foyer.
“Reed, Lady Chesfield is in need your assistance,” Bellingham said.
Reed lifted his chin. “Of course, my lord.” He bowed to her. “My lady.”
Laura fumed. Oh, she would blister Bellingham’s ears for giving orders to her butler.
Bellingham smiled at her. “Do not worry. I have matters under control.” Then he returned his attention to Reed. “It cannot have escaped your notice that the young master keeps late hours—or early ones depending on one’s perspective.”
“No, my lord,” he said. “I definitely noticed.”
“In the way of most young men, he is sowing wild oats,” Bellingham continued. “However, his mother finds this distressful, and of cou
rse, I am concerned for Lord Chesfield as well. So, I have devised a plan to ensure that Lady Chesfield’s son must consult her prior to leaving the town house. What I ask of you is to keep the door locked at all times. You may not unlock the door for him until he receives his mother’s permission. The only exception is in case of fire or some other emergency. Do you have any questions?”
To Laura’s astonishment, Reed smiled just a little. “No, my lord. You were quite clear.”
“His friends will probably call upon him. Install them in the anteroom and tell his lordship that you are under strict orders not to unlock the door without Lady Chesfield’s permission.”
“Yes, my lord,” Reed said.
“Thank you, Reed.” Bellingham offered his arm to Laura. For an instant, she was tempted to march off, but she would not show her anger in front of the servants. She allowed him to escort her, but she was breathing faster because of her ire.
After they stepped inside the drawing room, she turned on him. “How dare you give orders to my servant? You are not lord and master in this house, and you had better not forget it or I will never allow you in my home again.”
“It was my idea, so I felt it best to relay the message. Why are you overset?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Because you did not consult me first. I do not appreciate you managing my servants—or…or anything else.”
“You will appreciate it when my plan works.”
He was the most exasperating man she’d ever met. “I shan’t detain you. You most likely have important places to go.” He couldn’t ignore that blatant hint.
“Actually, I do have plans, but first, I have to wait for your son to wake up. On the other hand, that might take too long. Where is his room? I’ll oust him out of bed.”
She fisted her hands. “You will do no such thing.”
“Well, the other option is to allow him to sleep the rest of the day so that he’s refreshed enough to stay out all night again. I don’t recommend it, since Montclief’s spies are watching.”
She pointed at the chair. “Sit and don’t move. I will wake him.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Do I look like a dog?”
“You lack a tail.” She whirled around and marched out the door.
Bell grinned as he watched the sway of Laura’s slim hips until she disappeared from his sight. Then he walked about the drawing room. Next to the sofa, there was the usual basket of sewing accoutrements that was de rigueur for all ladies. Pastoral paintings adorned the walls. On the opposite wall, he came across a portrait of a man and a woman holding an infant. The old-fashioned clothing indicated the portrait was painted many years ago.
He turned to a chair and fingered the silk paisley shawl draped there. Bell liked the feel of things: the lushness of velvet, the softness of silk, and most of all, a woman’s soft skin. He pictured Laura lying on rumpled sheets. The image of long, slender thighs arose in his mind. When his groin tightened, he realized he’d better turn his thoughts elsewhere.
He crossed the room to admire a game table and ran his fingers over the polished mahogany surface. Bell examined the checkerboard and removed it. A backgammon board was inside. He examined the draughts and remembered playing the game with his father when he was about Justin’s age on a summer’s evening.
Unbidden, a sharp memory crept upon him. He’d been playing backgammon with his father. All of his focus had been on the game. He’d moved a draught and sat back. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen envy on his younger brother’s face. Steven had quickly turned his attention away.
Bell had realized that Steven felt left out. He’d stood and asked Steven if he wished to take his place. His brother had jumped up, excited for the chance to play against his father for the first time. But what he’d remembered most was the silent approval in his father’s eyes.
His chest tightened. Damn it all, why had the thought entered his head? He shoved the checkerboard top into place as if he were containing the memory.
The swish of skirts alerted him. He turned around to find Laura treading into the drawing room. “Well?”
She crossed the room and halted a foot away. “He’s bathing and dressing. I’m having a tray sent up to him.”
“He’s putting the servants to extra trouble.”
“I know, but sometimes it’s best to choose one’s battles. He’s cooperative. I asked him to join us in the drawing room afterward so that I may introduce you.”
“Was he surprised when you told him I’m here?”
“Yes. He looked a bit chagrined, since you caught him with the flask.” She paused and added, “I will confront him later about sneaking out of the house.”
She looked past him. “Did you see the game table?”
He nodded and drew closer to her. A light rose scent enveloped her. Probably soap. An image of her in a bath, her breasts bobbing in the water, popped into his mind. He’d better shove that out of his head.
She lifted the checkerboard top. “I suspect you have already investigated it.”
“Of course.”
When she smiled at him, he felt as if the sun had come out.
“Justin and I used to play backgammon.”
“You speak in the past tense,” Bell said.
“He lost interest after we came to London.” She sighed. “I suppose it’s not the thing to while away the hours with one’s mother.”
Bell said nothing, but despite her matter-of-fact tone, disappointment registered in her eyes.
“We could play if you wish,” he said.
She hesitated and then gave him a sassy look. “Very well, but I will trounce you.”
He pulled out one of the chairs. “Please be seated, my cocky opponent.”
When she took the chair, he leaned over her and said, “I fear you are in for disappointment.”
She turned toward him, and their gazes met. He breathed in the scent of her, and desire made his skin tingle. For the life of him, he couldn’t look away. When her eyes widened like an artless schoolgirl, the urge to kiss her gripped him. He drew closer, but she averted her face.
He took the other chair and realized his heart was beating a bit faster. She must have sensed him looking at her, because she returned his gaze. A rosy blush crept into her cheeks as she lowered her lashes.
To put her at ease, he handed her the dice. His fingers accidentally brushed her soft palm. She stilled but did not look at him. After a pause, she said, “Please roll to see who wins the first turn.”
“Ladies first,” he said.
She rolled a three. “Drat.”
He laughed and scooped up the dice. Then he rolled a six. “I win the first turn.”
“Hah! You were lucky once,” she said, grinning.
“I was lucky once before and hope to be again,” he said, hinting at their kiss.
She frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
Obviously she’d not caught on. “It’s nothing.” He rolled a six and a three. Then he positioned the draughts accordingly on the pips. When he handed her the dice, she glanced at him and then quickly closed her small fist. She rolled two sixes and clapped her hands. “Doubles.”
While she moved the draughts, he asked, “Did you find it difficult becoming a stepmother? I would imagine there must have been some adjustment for both you and Justin.”
She finished her moves and handed him the dice. “Justin’s mother died when he was only a year old. He had a succession of nannies. When my husband told Justin that I was to be his mother, he was elated. Until very recently, we were close.” She sighed. “I know becoming independent is part of his growth, but it’s not easy.”
He rolled the dice. “You never had any other children.”
“No.”
He moved his draughts and then looked at her, the question unspoken.
“My husband grew very ill five months after we married,” she said, taking the dice from him.
“How long ago did he die?” Bell asked.
“Four years have passed.”
He watched her roll. “Did he know he was ailing when he asked you to marry him?”
She made her move. “He believed his health was returning.”
Good Lord. “He was older than you?”
She dropped the dice into his outstretched hand. “Yes, by twenty-seven years.”
He rolled. “Forgive me, but why would you marry an elderly man?”
“I married the man I loved,” she said.
Her tone sounded defensive. He probably wasn’t the first to suspect she’d married the elderly viscount for his fortune. “How did your family react to the news?” he said, moving the draughts.
She held out her hand for the dice and rolled them. “My father was a bit concerned at first, but he came around. My mother was happy that I made such a great match.”
So there was an element of ambition about her marriage. “You have a large family?” he asked.
She smiled and pushed her draughts into place. “Yes, I have ten siblings.”
Her father was a vicar. With such a large brood, he likely struggled to make ends meet. “You probably missed them after you married,” he said.
“No, they live in the nearby village and visit often,” she said, handing him the dice.
He gazed at her. Blond ringlets caressed her cheeks. Her complexion was flawless. She had a sweet, wholesome look about her and pretty green eyes. He noticed that her fingers and wrists were very slender. She was far more petite than his previous lovers. The thought brought him up short. Laura wasn’t his lover…and never would be.
She lifted her lashes. “Your turn.”
Recollecting himself, he rolled the dice. He started to move one of the draughts when her voice arrested him.
“Lady Atherton told me that you lost all of your family,” she said.
He hated talking about it and made his move. “It happened a long time ago.”
“You have no other relatives?”
“No,” he said.
“Well, it is my turn to ask for forgiveness in advance,” she said, “but under the circumstances, I would think you would wish to marry.”
He looked at her coldly. “I don’t.” Then he handed her the dice.
She rolled. “You are angry at me for asking you about your family, but you must allow the question was natural since you asked about my own.”
What a Wicked Earl Wants Page 7
