by Alice Gaines
A throat cleared softly beside her.
“Mrs. Oxley, allow me to present Mr. Roger Montgomery,” Bess said.
“And my son,” Mrs. Oxley said. “William, Duke of Latimore.”
The young man bowed somewhat awkwardly, as would anyone who was all arms and legs. A duke. There hadn’t been any dukes in that family the last she’d known of them. The mother pronounced the title with enough solemnity for a monarch, ruler of all he surveys, when the duke in question was little more than a child and appeared uncomfortable with all the attention.
“Montgomery.” Mrs. Oxley tapped her lips with her index finger. “Are you connected to the Dover Montgomerys?”
“I’m connected to the Montgomery Iron Works,” he answered.
Mrs. Oxley bristled, or at least, the best impression of bristling someone overly plump could manage. “We wouldn’t have met.”
“True,” Montgomery said. “At least, not without Lady Rushford’s introduction.”
Good Lord. The Oxley woman had taken offense at having to confront someone in trade, and Montgomery had just put the blame on Bess. Sure enough, Mrs. Oxley turned a scolding expression on her. Her son, the duke, merely gazed around him as if oblivious to the whole encounter.
“So,” Bess said. “What brings you to our little shire?”
“A party at Hollyfield. I suppose you’ve heard of it, Lady Rushford,” Mrs. Oxley said.
“I couldn’t have missed it,” she answered. “I live on the neighboring property.”
“I’m staying at Hollyfield,” Montgomery added.
Mrs. Oxley stared at him for a moment. “Indeed.”
“Mr. Montgomery fell from his horse. The Northcrosses are putting him up until he recovers,” Bess said.
“My ankle.” He held out his foot to show the bandage. He hadn’t limped much as they’d entered the shop, but they’d only gone a few steps. He did seem to keep the weight off that foot as much as possible.
“Viscountess Hadleigh was most insistent that I not try to travel just yet,” he said, emphasizing “viscountess.”
Mrs. Oxley looked as if she’d say “indeed” again or as if she’d bristle again if she could manage it.
“I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you there,” he said with one of his insincere smiles. “In fact, I could accompany your carriage there with the gig I borrowed from the viscount.”
Mrs. Oxley took a sharp breath. A bit louder, and it would qualify as a gasp.
“You’d need to see me home first,” Bess said.
“Quite right.” He bowed toward Mrs. Oxley. “Perhaps some other time.”
“I think not, sir,” she said. “Come along, William.”
She brushed past Montgomery and Bess, nearly pulling her son behind her. The bell over the shop door jangled as they left.
Montgomery turned toward Bess. “Proper English manners.”
“You provoked her.”
“She’s easily provoked, then,” he said.
“In any case, my appetite’s disappeared,” she said.
“Mine, too. Let me have a few things boxed up for you for later.”
“That’s not—” Before she could add “necessary,” he’d gone to the counter, favoring his injured leg as he went.
She really ought to like the man more. She usually avoided people like the Oxley woman for just the reason he disliked her—silly snobbishness. That family hadn’t held an elevated place in society, at least not before they’d acquired a dukedom from somewhere. Montgomery seemed to take irking Mrs. Oxley seriously. Bess would do it for amusement if she bothered at all.
So, this had been a general waste of good hours. At least Montgomery would take her home, and the next time Rose felt someone really ought to go driving with him, she could do it herself.
*
A strange curricle stood in the drive outside Carlton House as they pulled up in the gig. This time, a footman rather than Montgomery helped Bess down, and as she moved to take the small box of pastries from Montgomery’s hand, he didn’t hold it out to her.
“Allow me to see you inside,” he said.
“That’s really not necessary.”
Instead of leaving, he placed his palm at her back again and helped her up her own stairs. That sort of courtesy really had to stop, and it would the moment she convinced him to go away. She simply wouldn’t have anything more to do with him. She’d avoid Hollyfield entirely, and if he came here, she’d find some reason or other to refuse to see him.
Upton greeted them inside. “You have guests, my lady.”
“I see.”
“Captain Northcross and his sister.”
Ah, yes. Lily. She’d come to begin her studies in writing lurid novels à la Jack Sterling. Her brother wasn’t supposed to accompany her.
She proceeded to the music room, following the sound of the pianoforte. Montgomery trailed her like a shadow. Would she have to be blunt to get rid of the man?
When she reached her destination, she found Lily standing by the pianoforte and Miss Pembroke at the keyboard. Rose and the captain sat nearby, looking on. He got to his feet when he saw Bess, and his face broke into a smile. It faded when Montgomery entered behind her.
The two men stared at each other before exchanging greetings.
“Montgomery,” the captain said.
“Northcross.” Montgomery turned to Bess and handed her the pastry box. “I hope you’ll enjoy these.”
“Thank you.”
Montgomery bowed toward the other ladies. “I’ll see myself out.”
Captain Northcross stood in silence until the other man had left. Finally, some of the starch left his spine, and he relaxed into his usual posture, or something like it.
She went to Rose and handed her the box. “Some pastries. We can have them with our tea.”
“I’ll take them to cook.” Rose got up. “Why don’t you and Captain Northcross have a little stroll around the garden?”
Bess glowered at her. “I just came in from outside.”
“And see how lovely your complexion is as a result,” Rose said. “Isn’t it, Captain Northcross?”
“Lady Rushford is always lovely,” he answered. At least today he was looking at her face.
She leaned close to Rose to whisper in her ear. “Will you stop shooing me out of my own house?”
“I’m afraid the captain is a distraction from Lily’s practicing,” Rose announced to them all. She was right. As long as he stayed, they’d have to keep up the pretense that Lily came for music lessons. If Bess took him away, Lily would at least have some time alone with Rose and Anna. From the expressions on their faces, they had no intention of diverting his attention and would insist on her walking with him Of course, neither of them had any idea how very diverting being alone with him could become.
“Oh, yes,” Lily chirped. “I could learn much better without an audience.”
“There you have it,” Anna said. “As Lily’s teacher, I must insist.”
Their enthusiasm for the idea had far less to do with teaching Lily anything than it did with their preposterous matchmaking plans for Bess and the captain. Hopeless romantics, both of them. She’d have to talk some sense into their heads when she got back. It probably wouldn’t penetrate any better than the last time.
“There, you see. I’m under foot,” he declared. “Only you can save me from becoming a complete nuisance, Lady Rushford.”
Lily favored them with her innocent laugh. Such a delightful girl. Had Bess ever seemed that way to anyone? Maybe to Bert?
Before she could get lost in thought, the captain had taken his place at her side. “The rose garden again?”
Her jaw nearly dropped. They wouldn’t have a repeat of that. “Along the river, I think.”
“After you.”
*
Trees overhung the banks of the river, so Jason and Lady Rushford walked in dappled shade with sunlight occasionally kissing their shoulders and then disappearing ag
ain. He kept his hands firmly behind his back, his fingers twined together. That way, he’d have to make some effort to reach for her. After the two other times they’d touched, he could hardly deny that another such encounter would take them down dangerous paths.
He shouldn’t have come to Carlton House today. He should have let Lily go alone on her horse. And he certainly shouldn’t have agreed—almost insisted—that Bess walk with him. Unfortunately, shoulds and shouldn’ts had no effect on him where this woman was concerned.
“Are you seeing Montgomery?” he asked.
“I can hardly fail to see a man standing in my own music room,” she answered.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“He only appeared at Hollyfield last night, didn’t he?” she said. “That doesn’t give me much time to be seeing him.”
“He came to you quickly enough.”
“I have no idea why.”
“Then you didn’t continue your acquaintance with him in London,” he said.
She stopped walking and looked up at him. “Must we talk of acquaintances again?”
“No, I think not.”
“Good, then. Let’s have our stroll.” She proceeded along the bank, leaving him behind for several steps before he caught up with her. For so small a person, she had a long stride. She held her chin up, her shoulders back, giving her an almost martial aspect. A lady who knew where she was going. If only he could be so certain of his own direction.
“I happened on one of your new guests in the village,” she said when he’d come abreast of her. “Two, actually. Mrs. Oxley and her son.”
“Ah, the young duke.”
She glanced at him briefly. “You know them?”
“They’ve been family friends for years. Or at least, Will has been Lily’s friend.”
“And now, he’s acquired a title. A very lofty one.”
“A distant cousin died without an heir. It took some time to determine who should inherit.”
“His mother’s puffed herself up about it,” she said.
“That always was her way.” And exactly why he needed a fortunate marriage himself. The duke and his mother had probably arrived at Hollyfield in his absence. He’d best step up his courtship of Miss Swan to impress Mrs. Oxley. Time to set his thoughts on a serious path and away from pleasant fantasies that could lead nowhere. Yes, he’d better let Lily come alone for her music lessons from now on.
“I’m going to be married,” he said. The first time he’d announced it to anyone outside the family. Odd. He’d always expected the decision to come with a great deal of joy. Instead, it fell like a stone between them.
She stopped again and smiled uncertainly. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky girl?”
“I haven’t decided,” he said. “That is, I have, but I haven’t made a formal proposal yet.”
“Then maybe you should be telling her instead of me.”
“Lady Rushford.” He reached for her hands and then forced himself to lower his arms without touching her. “Don’t you ever think of taking another husband?”
“Whatever would I do with one?”
That had an obvious answer that they were both well aware of. In fact, in light of what had happened the last time they’d been alone together, one might even say it was an answer they should be painfully aware of. At least, it had involved some discomfort for him.
“You must miss the company of your husband,” he said.
“Bert, yes.” A sort of wistful smile crossed her face. Nothing that indicated any kind of lost passion. “He was a good friend.”
“That’s an odd way to think of a life mate.”
“I disagree,” she said. “A good friend is exactly the sort of person I want to spend long years with.”
“With no particular desire or passion?”
“Oh, that.” She turned and gazed out over the river for several moments. “Bert was quite a bit older than me.”
And unable to perform? Could the man never have satisfied her? Good Lord, did she really know nothing, or very little, of the joys of the flesh?
“Things were pleasant enough in that regard,” she said, still looking away. She might have been talking to herself and not to him. Trying to convince herself, perhaps. “Bert was a considerate husband in every regard.”
“Pleasant?” he repeated. “Considerate?”
“What would you have him be?”
“Out of his head over you. Drunk with lust.” Heaven knew she made him feel that way.
She laughed. “You’re very young.”
“Damn it. What does my age have to do with anything?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. Perhaps even shock.
“Forgive my foul language,” he said.
“That doesn’t matter. I curse, too. Your vehemence surprised me.”
“You’re a very beautiful woman,” he said. “You should have a lover who’s more than considerate.”
“Delightful. Maybe I should pursue Montgomery. He seems to have some kind of obsession with me.”
“Montgomery?” He’d almost shouted the word. Still, how could she even consider a man like that?
“He’s handy and decent enough to look at.”
“He’s a cold and calculating fellow. You can read it in his manner.”
“He also strikes me as quite competent at whatever he does,” she said.
“You can’t be serious.” He gestured with both arms. He must look like a madman, but then, she had to be equally insane to ever consider the man.
“I wouldn’t have to marry him. I don’t have to marry anyone,” she said. “I could make him drunk with lust and leave things like that.”
“Drunk with lust?” Now he really was shouting, and with good cause.
“That was your phrase, not mine.”
“You can’t make a man like Montgomery drunk with lust,” he said, his voice still loud. “He doesn’t have an honest emotion in him.”
“Oh, come now. Neither of us know him well enough to say that.”
“I do.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”
“I recognize the type.”
She glared at him, fire shining in the brown depths of her eyes. “Maybe I’ll prove you wrong. Maybe I’ll inspire a mad passion in him since you seem so determined that I introduce myself to some man’s animal side.”
He shook a finger under her nose. “You wouldn’t.”
She batted his hand away. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Women. They were either docile to the point of being insipid, or they resisted even the most reasonable suggestions as to how they should behave. He’d made the very modest and sensible suggestion that she should explore possibilities for remarriage or a passionate liaison, and how did she respond? With Montgomery, a man who’d given her a headache the first night she’d met him. And now she’d argue the point.
He ought to say more on the subject, but all that entered his mind was, “I forbid it,” and that would likely have the opposite effect. Bloody hell.
So he did the only other thing that came to him. He put his arms around her, crushing her against him as his lips sought hers.
She let out a gasp of surprise, and then her mouth found his. She kissed him with the sort of unspent passion that had simmered inside him for weeks now. Her arms went around his neck so that she could pull herself up to him. Soft everywhere, she yielded in a way that would have made him weep if he weren’t so completely immersed in kissing her.
When her lips parted beneath his, he could sample their fullness. Nipping and sucking at them, he tasted every sweet curve and corner. While she clung to him, he let his hands wander over her. Down her sides and then to her back, finally settling on her buttocks. So round and plush, and yet his palms covered them, kneading.
Somehow, he’d backed her up against a tree, and he could pin her there. God help him, he pressed himself into her, his rapidly swelling rod against her pelvis. She moaned, the
sound low in the back of her throat. She wanted more, and he’d deny her nothing. While he lowered his head to her throat and kissed the velvet of her skin, he fumbled with the buttons of her bodice. They wouldn’t come free, and his mind was in no state to solve the puzzles of women’s clothing, so he cupped one breast through the fabric, savored its fullness, and flicked his thumb over the tip.
Shuddering against him, she let out a small cry of pleasure. Her breathing turned harsh and loud to his ears. The sounds of a fully aroused woman.
If he proceeded now, he’d reach between her legs and find moisture. He’d find her most sensitive flesh and tease it until she exploded in orgasm before he’d even entered her. He’d take her up against a tree with the jagged bark digging into her flesh. As much as his body screamed for him to do exactly that, she deserved better. Instead, he released her and stepped back.
He had to work to get air into his lungs, and he squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to clear the haze of need from his brain. When he opened them, he almost took her in his arms again. What a sight she made. Her hair had fallen into curls around her face. Her lips were parted and moist from his own. She took breaths in shallow puffs that made her bosom rise and fall erratically. He had managed to undo two of the buttons of her bodice after all.
She raised a hand to her throat. “Oh dear.”
“I believe I’ve made my point.”
“I’m sure you have.” She swallowed. “Whatever it was.”
“No more talk of Montgomery.”
“Who?” she said. “Oh, yes. That is, no. No more talk.”
“That’s good, then.”
She fastened her buttons, working much more quickly than he had to open them. “In fact, this whole conversation has ended. If I decide I want a man, I won’t ask your approval.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest you should,” he said.
“As for you,” she said. “If you’re going to marry some young woman, you might stop kissing me.”
“You’re right, of course.” What a bloody great fool he’d made of himself. And now he had a rock-solid erection for a punishment.
“Captain Northcross, I don’t know what happens between us every time we meet.”
