by Cheryl Holt
Felicity stamped her foot. “I want him to do it again. I want him to do it correctly.”
“Are we finished?” Redvers inquired of Victoria.
“Yes, we’re definitely finished.” She rounded the desk and took Felicity by the arm, escorting her out. “Go find Mary and send her down. Inform her that she must attend me at once.”
Felicity studied them. Redvers wasn’t leaving, so it was obvious they would meet with Mary together. Why?
A frisson of concern slithered down her spine. What was happening?
“Why must you speak with Mary? Why would he sit in with you?”
“Just fetch her for me.”
Victoria shoved Felicity into the hall and shut the door in her face.
Her proposal ended, her marriage set, she marched away.
Chapter 18
“CASSIE! There you are!”
Cassandra whipped around to see Adair chasing her down the hall. She refused to think of him as Paxton, and she couldn’t have him referring to her as Cassie right out in the open, where anyone could hear.
“What is it, Mr. Adair?”
He hurried up, skidding to a halt.
Debonair as ever, he looked handsome and elegant in a perfectly tailored suit. He’d been barbered and shaved, and he smelled very good, a hint of masculine cologne discernible beneath his clothes.
The scent tickled her senses, pricking at whatever insane itch he always goaded until she was desperate to have him scratch it.
Needing to put space between them, she took a step back. He’d expected a warm greeting and when he didn’t receive it, he frowned.
“You called me Mr. Adair.”
“Of course I did. We don’t have a familiar acquaintance.”
“You little liar. What’s come over you? Why have you been hiding from me?”
“I haven’t been hiding.”
“Yes, you have. You’ve been positively dodgy.”
“You’re being absurd. I have no reason to avoid you.”
“Don’t you?”
He smiled a smile that made her knees weak, that promised iniquity, that wickedly reminded her of how she had no secrets from him.
“It’s been three days since we”—he bent down and whispered—“fucked like rabbits, and I haven’t seen you anywhere. If I’d had any idea of the location of your bedchamber, I’d have sneaked in every night.”
“Would you be silent?”
“Call me Paxton, or I’ll say it again. Very loudly.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would, so call me Paxton.” He glared, tapping his foot. “I’m waiting.”
“No. I won’t let you bully me. Go away before someone sees us.”
“Why would I care if anyone sees us? Quit being such a prim shrew.”
“Me! I’m not prim.”
“You couldn’t prove it by me. You’re acting like a frightened virgin, and it annoys the hell out of me.”
There was a deserted parlor next to them, and he grabbed her hand and dragged her inside. He closed the door with his toe, then shoved her back. He leaned in, trapping her against the wood.
“Have you missed me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Why do you keep lying?”
His mouth covered hers in a devastating kiss. It went on and on till she was dizzy, till she managed to forget that they were in a downstairs room in her mother’s house.
A servant could walk by and push his way in, and the possibility of detection added a dangerous element to their behavior. She found it oddly thrilling.
He clasped her thighs and wrapped them around his waist so that her privates were pressed to his. He was hard with desire, and she was delighted to have aroused him, experiencing none of her usual fear or revulsion. Instead, joy swept through her.
Did people really fornicate like this? Against a door? In the middle of the day? With such reckless abandon?
She was grinning, and she couldn’t stop.
Like a magician, he raised her skirt and opened his trousers. In an instant, she was impaled on his masculine rod, and he was thrusting into her.
He lowered the bodice of her dress, her bare breasts hanging out, and he pinched her nipples, sending waves of lust shooting to her womb. In an instant, she exploded with pleasure, and so did he. This time, he didn’t pull out, but spilled his seed far inside her, and she should have been worried, but she wasn’t.
She could practically see the son they might create. He’d have Paxton’s golden blond hair and her big blue eyes, and she almost wished he had planted a child.
His flexing slowed, his face buried at her nape, his eager lips hot on her skin.
“Now will you call me Paxton?” he inquired. “If you say no, I’ll spank your bottom.”
“Oh, Paxton ...” she murmured. “My goodness!”
“That’s more like it.” He drew away, guiding her down his torso till her feet touched the floor.
They tarried, straightening their clothes, and he was studying her with the most charming expression, as if she was very dear to him.
The look unnerved her. It seemed to demand a similar look in return, but she couldn’t give it to him. She didn’t know how.
“What are you staring at?” She felt foolish and giddy.
He was quiet, contemplative, then he admitted, “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? Why?”
“Jordan is sick of me. He’s kicked me out. Lauretta, too. She and I are heading back to London.”
“When?”
“Right away.”
“I see.”
She’d understood that he’d be at Barnes Manor a short while, but she hadn’t realized the end was so near. Panic assailed her.
“Come with me!” he urged.
“To where?”
“To London.”
“London! Are you mad?”
“No. I’ve been thinking about us.”
“There is no us.”
“There is! Don’t deny it. Something happens when we’re together. It’s wild and extraordinary.... Oh, just come with me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“And why couldn’t you? What’s keeping you here?”
“It’s my home.”
“You hate it here. You’re constantly under your mother’s thumb. You trudge around as if you died at age sixteen when you were wed. Let me breathe some life back into you. Escape with me.”
“To do what? You have no income. How would we live?”
“I’ve decided it’s time for me to grow up.”
“What does that mean?”
He sobered, appearing very sensible for a change.
“I’m going to tell my father yes that I would like very much to take possession of his plantation in Jamaica.”
“You’re off to Jamaica?”
“Yes.” He grinned, his excitement bubbling up. “Can’t you picture me, sitting on the verandah of my grand house, gazing out at the blue sea? I’ll be wearing a white suit, and I’ll have a cadre of Negroes fawning over me and serving me iced rums.”
She smiled, being able to absolutely visualize it, as if it was a place she’d previously resided herself. She could see the palm trees swaying in the wind, could smell the tropical flowers lining the balustrade, could feel the warm breeze drifting up off the beach sand.
“I can picture you in just that spot,” she said.
“Then come with me. There’s a chair on that porch for you, too.”
For an insane, impetuous second, it was on the tip of her tongue to accept.
After all, what reason was there to stay at Barnes Manor?
Her mother wanted her gone, and Cassandra was desperate to depart. But in her ponderings, she’d never actually assumed it might transpire, and with Paxton offering her the chance, she was too terrified to reach for it.
She didn’t know any details about him save for the fact that he was a gambler, cheat, and philanderer. How could that be the basis for a lasting rela
tionship?
In a pinch, he wasn’t the sort of fellow a woman could count upon, so she would never rashly board a ship and sail across the ocean with him. The prospect was so fantastical that he might have suggested she sprout wings and fly to the moon.
“No,” she said. “I can’t.”
“You can!” he insisted.
“No.”
He grabbed her and shook her. “Do it for me. Do it for yourself!”
“No ... no ...”
“I can’t bear to go without you. Don’t make me.”
His heartfelt plea was too enticing. Her resolve was weakening, and she yearned to throw herself into his arms, to laugh and say yes, yes, yes, but she couldn’t.
Despite how she complained about Victoria, Cassandra was her daughter in every way.
Although Cassandra had been wed and widowed, she couldn’t imagine marrying again without her mother’s consent. Victoria would never deem Adair an appropriate spouse, would never agree to a match.
“I really couldn’t, Paxton. I couldn’t. I’m so sorry.”
She squirmed away and opened the door, stepping into the hall without peeking first. He lunged after her, and unfortunately, her mother took that very moment to appear at the end of the corridor.
She halted and frowned, assessing the intimate scene.
“Mr. Adair, what are you doing? Unhand my daughter at once.”
He moved away, and he stared at Cassandra, giving her the opportunity to tell the truth, to admit a bond, but she was a coward and always had been. She had no idea how to stand up to Victoria, and she was stubbornly silent.
He winked, taking the blame, forgiving her for her spinelessness.
“I apologize, Mrs. Barnes.” He was convincingly contrite. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
“Lord Redvers has asked you to go,” Victoria seethed, “and it can’t happen soon enough for me.”
“He was just flirting, Mother,” Cassandra fibbed.
“In an empty parlor,” Victoria charged, “with the door closed? He might have done anything to you.” She glared at Paxton. “Pack your belongings, Mr. Adair, and get out of my house. Don’t let me catch you sniffing around Cassandra again.”
Paxton hesitated, his disappointment clear. Cassandra thought he might defend himself or beg her to be candid about their friendship, but he didn’t.
He turned and left.
Cassandra and Victoria stood in place, watching him go. Then Victoria marched off without forcing Cassandra to endure a lecture on low morals.
As she dawdled in the quiet, it dawned on her that this had been her farewell to Paxton Adair. She would never talk to him again. She would never see him again.
It was the most dismal realization she’d ever had, and the lonely days without him stretched ahead like the road to Hades.
“VICTORIA,” Mary said, entering the library, “Felicity told me you wanted to speak with me.”
“Yes, Mary, come in.”
Victoria was behind her desk, Jordan seated across from her, and Mary tamped down any indication of surprise.
Since his fight with his father, she’d been searching for him, knowing that he’d be distraught.
Why was he with Victoria?
Mary’s heart pounded with anticipation. He’d sworn that they would find a way to wed. Had he already notified Victoria of his decision?
He must have!
Inside, she reeled with joy, but she couldn’t let it show.
She walked over and sat next to Jordan. She was trembling, but she couldn’t help it. She was so very, very glad.
“What is it?” she inquired.
“Lord Redvers has something he would like to say to you.”
“All right.”
Mary shifted to face him, conveying a silent, visual message of encouragement. She’d tied her hair with the red ribbon he’d bought her. She tipped her head slightly so he’d see it, so he’d remember he wasn’t alone, that she was his partner and would stand by him in the pending tumult they were about to cause.
“Mary,” he cautiously started, “I’m ... I’m sorry.”
She scowled, the remark confusing her.
“Sorry for what?”
“I know you heard the quarrel with my father.”
“Yes, but he didn’t mean what he said. I’m sure of it. You were both angry, but it will pass. You’ll see.”
“No, he meant it. He always means it, so my financial situation is even more dire than it’s been.”
He looked miserable. Dejected and sad and regretful.
She rippled with dread.
“What is it?” she asked. “Just say it.”
“I have confessed our indiscretion to your stepmother.”
The way he pronounced the word indiscretion rattled her. He made their relationship sound sordid and wrong, as if he was ashamed.
“You did?”
“Yes, and she wants me to clarify a few things for you.”
“What things?”
“Well, from the liaison I pursued with you, I might have given you a false impression.”
“About what?”
“Ah ... you might have been hoping we’d end up together.”
“Yes, I was. You were, too.”
He sighed, then mumbled, “It’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“I could never follow through, and though I knew better, I pursued you anyway.”
“Mary,” Victoria interjected, “you’ve had no experience with amour, so you aren’t cognizant of what often transpires in an illicit romance. What Lord Redvers is trying to explain is that a man might whisper comments—in the heat of passion—that are a lie.”
Mary’s world crumbled as her faith in everything she’d ever believed was shattered. The very air in the sky had vanished. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
“But you promised me,” she said to Jordan. “You promised!”
“Yes, I did, and for that, I most humbly apologize.”
“Tell her the rest,” Victoria urged. “Get it over with.”
“I’ve decided to marry Felicity,” he announced.
She couldn’t have heard him correctly. She shook her head, feeling as if her ears were plugged, and she needed to clear them.
“What?”
“I’ve proposed to Felicity, and we’re to be married tomorrow morning.”
“You ... proposed? When?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
If what he’d claimed was true, he’d sneaked out of her bed, had fought with his father, then marched into Victoria’s library and arranged his wedding.
Could any man be that cruel? That shallow? That dishonest?
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Don’t do this to me. Please! Don’t do this to yourself.”
“It’s already finished. There’s no going back.”
“Last night, you told me that you wanted to change my life. You wanted to change yours. You were happy about it.”
“Last night, I wasn’t very sober.”
If he’d stabbed her with a knife, he couldn’t have wounded her any more grievously.
He and Victoria were both very calm, very composed, and she supposed she should have attempted to match them in poise and dignity, but she was devastated.
She began to weep, a flood of tears dripping down her cheeks. She couldn’t hold them in, and she didn’t even try.
On seeing them, he looked stricken.
“Oh, Mary, don’t cry. You know I can’t bear it when you’re sad.”
He reached out as if he might take her hand, and Victoria snapped, “Lord Redvers! You forget yourself!”
He eased away, appearing abashed, which should have provided some measure of solace, but it didn’t.
She shouldn’t have trusted him, and she’d never forgive herself for being so gullible. She would never forgive him for his cold disregard.
“
You were going to change my life,” she stupidly repeated.
Of all the sins he’d committed against her, this was the worst one. She’d naively assumed he would do what he’d vowed. It had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t.
She’d never been more humiliated.
“You’re upset now,” he said, “but in the future, when you reflect on this episode, you’ll see that this was for the best. I would have been a terrible husband. I would have made you so miserable.”
“No. I loved you. You could never have made me unhappy.”
The remark fell into the room like a boulder dropped on gravel, a final nail in her coffin of woe.
He and Victoria stiffened—as with offense—and Victoria gestured for him to hurry.
Hadn’t he said plenty? What could possibly be left?
“We have some plans in place for you,” he declared.
She might have inquired as to what they were, but she couldn’t speak. Mute and dumbfounded, she simply gaped at him. He had bargained with Victoria over her fate, and she thought it took some gall for them to haggle without her being aware of the stakes.
“We need to learn if there’s a babe,” he advised her, “so you’ll stay with Victoria’s cousin for a bit. Then Victoria has agreed to a marvelous resolution.”
He seemed downright eager to share their news, to have her relish it, too.
“Victoria will dower you,” he excitedly proclaimed, “so you can marry. She’ll help you find a husband, so you’ll wind up with what you’ve always craved: a family, a home of your own—”
“Stop it,” she managed to gasp. “Stop!”
She’d wanted Jordan Winthrop as her husband. Instead, Lord Redvers was throwing her a bone, giving her a nameless, faceless spouse as a consolation prize.
It was the most spiteful, most malicious deed that had ever been done to her.
She peered at Victoria.
“Could you ask him to go?”
She would have liked to be the one to rise and stomp out, but she couldn’t move.
Victoria glared at Redvers. “I’ll deal with her from here on out. It’s obvious she understands what’s expected of her.”
He rose and gazed down at Mary.
“I know you don’t believe me at the moment,” he said, “but I did this for you.”
