by Alice Gaines
When he pressed his mouth to hers, he met no resistance. She didn’t freeze and didn’t retreat. Unfortunately, she didn’t respond, either. Her lips remained pliant under his, but they made no demands. Neither did they part. The effect was rather like eating a piece of fruit—pleasant but lacking in passion.
He tried a bit more, tilting his head to sample her more deeply while taking her elbows to pull her closer. Her hands went against his chest, resting there lightly. She made no sound whatsoever, nor did her breath come faster, but then, neither did his. Finally, he gave up, straightening.
She brought her fingers to her throat again. “My, that was nice.”
Exactly the word he would have used, but he wouldn’t have meant it as a compliment. Oh, bloody hell, what did he expect? With a father like hers, no young swain would have made any progress with her. She was completely untouched. Young girls didn’t have the same passion young men did. At least, that’s what people had told him. He’d never seduced a virgin, partly out of consideration for a woman’s reputation but partly because he’d expected exactly what he’d now encountered—a total lack of desire on her part.
“Captain Northcross?” she said.
“You can call me Jason now, I think.”
“Not until we’re married.”
“Right.”
“I . . .” She placed a hand over his. “I’ll be a good wife to you.”
“I have no doubt.” Once he’d taught her to enjoy the marital act. Underneath all that propriety, she must be built like other women. He only needed to get her to relax a bit and enjoy his touch. That shouldn’t take too long, should it?
Other men had done worse and ended up happy. He would, too, eventually.
*
Word traveled fast. Though Jason and Miss Swan had made no formal announcement, the party treated them differently. At breakfast the next morning, the throng parted to allow Alice Swan to take the seat next to his. Sarah glared at him across the table but held her tongue. Perhaps she’d finally realized he’d been serious about not re-establishing their affair. Perhaps she only felt thwarted.
Lily frowned at him as Alice shook out her napkin, smiling sweetly at him. Then his sister turned her attention back to her friend, the young duke. Things should proceed apace now. A double wedding by the end of the summer. Success all around.
Mrs. Oxley, the duke’s mother, entered the room with a livelier step than usual. She went directly to Jason. “Why, dear boy, what an excellent choice you’ve made.”
He rose immediately. “Mrs. Oxley?”
“And this young lady.” Mrs. Oxley beamed a smile at Alice. “You two are such a lovely couple. What an advantageous match.”
“We haven’t announced anything as yet,” Jason said. “I suppose you’ve done it for us.”
Mrs. Oxley covered her mouth with her fingers. “I’ve spoken out of turn. Please, excuse me.”
“No need,” Jason said. He turned to the rest of the group. “This seems as good a time as any to make the news public. Miss Swan has agreed to become my wife.”
They’d all known, but now that he’d given them permission, the party launched into the expected reactions. The young ladies swarmed around Alice, pushing Jason aside in the process. Harriett Ellsford was chief among them, apparently not overly disappointed that she hadn’t won him for herself. The older women put their heads together, sending up a buzz of excitement. The men issued the standard “I say. Good show. Lucky fellow” rot. Though Jason had had no intention of backing out of the engagement, he certainly couldn’t do it now without hurting Miss Swan’s reputation. At least he’d pleased Mrs. Oxley. He’d calculated correctly in that regard.
He glanced toward his family. Thomas was sitting quietly, smiling at his wife. In a few years, he’d feel the same way about Alice as Thomas did about Grace. Especially if she carried his child, although he couldn’t quite fit that image to such an innocent young thing.
His sister merely gazed at him with a look that said “fluff-headed.” She’d thank him when she’d become a duchess.
Nearby, Sarah wore an inscrutable expression. He could almost see wheels spinning behind her eyes. A woman who so lacked scruples that she would try to arrange a marriage so that she could continue an affair with her own daughter’s fiancé would hardly blanch at the prospect of bedding another woman’s new groom. What on earth sort of appeal did he possess that she found him so difficult to give up?
“Might I speak to you alone for a moment?” Mrs. Oxley said.
“Hm?” He returned his attention to his sister’s mother-in-law-to-be. “Of course.”
He allowed her to go ahead of him as they stepped out into the hallway. Whatever she planned to tell him couldn’t wait until they’d entered another room, because she turned to him as soon as they’d gone out of hearing of the others.
“Well, young man, you’ve made yourself a fine match,” she said. “Your fiancée’s father, I believe, is a nephew of the Duke of Folkston.”
“I believe so.”
“One doesn’t easily marry into such a highly placed family.”
“I’m aware of the honor, but I chose my wife-to-be based on her own graces.” They both knew that was a lie, but the sort of lie everyone expected. In fact, in this situation the truth would appear uncouth, if not outright rude. They were also both fully aware that he’d made the move in hopes of uniting his family with another duke, her son. At least, she seemed pleased at the prospect.
“Of course, she’s an excellent female,” Mrs. Oxley said. “Your sister could learn a few things from Miss Swan.”
“We spoke on this subject before, I believe.”
“I offered my help,” she said. “I’m even more determined to lend her my experience in becoming a proper lady. You and your brother are men and don’t understand such things.”
Ah, yes, Mrs. Oxley’s plans for Lily’s improvement. He’d never submit his sister to such tender mercies if they wouldn’t lead to such a happy outcome. Lily was clever enough to play along without surrendering her spirit. He only had to get her past her anger at him to win her cooperation.
“I wonder if she might spend more time with you,” he said. “And your son, of course. They’ve always been such good friends.”
“I think I could arrange that,” Mrs. Oxley said. “Will and I had planned to take a stroll to categorize the local flora this morning. Lily might bring a sketch pad, and I could instruct her in drawing wildflowers.”
“An excellent plan. I’ll have Lily ready in, shall we say an hour?”
“An hour.” The woman gave him the closest thing he’d seen to a smile of approval since she’d arrived. “I think you and I will both be satisfied with her progress.”
“I’m sure we will.” He bowed because the woman would expect it, mother of a duke and all. She simply smiled again and went upstairs, no doubt to find an appropriate costume for stalking cowslips.
As he started back to the breakfast room to find his sister, she emerged. She’d already put a bonnet on her head and was in the process of draping a shawl around her shoulders. He caught her arm as she attempted to walk past him.
“And where are you off to?” he asked.
She tipped her head up in a manner that told him to expect an argument if he tried to thwart her. “Carlton House.”
“No,” he said.
“What do you mean by no?”
“You’ll stay here.”
“I don’t see why I should.” She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t see why I should spurn Lady Rushford just because you are.”
“I’m not spurning Lady Rushford.”
She gave him the look that said fluff-headed again.
“This has nothing to do with me, anyway,” he said. “I want you to stay here to entertain your young friend.”
“Will? He can entertain himself.”
“You’re not acting like a gracious hostess. He plans to take a walk to study the local flowers this morning. I th
ink you should act as his guide.”
She positively glowered at him. “You mean his mother, don’t you?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at her. He more or less remembered his father taking that stance when he forbade him to do something. Stern. Commanding. Something like that. Lily only rolled her eyes at him.
“It’s time you got to know Mrs. Oxley better,” he said.
“I know everything I need to about her,” Lily said. “All of it disagreeable.”
“I must insist,” he said. “Our party is here. I won’t have you so often absent.”
“You’re turning into a prig.”
“At some point you have to grow up, young lady. That time has arrived. Mrs. Oxley and her son will be waiting for you here in one hour.”
At that, he turned and left her standing there. This was all for her own good. He should have taken her in hand long ago.
*
Lily fumed for half an hour before deciding that she’d have to do as her brother wished. With any luck, she and Will could stay well away from his mother during their walk. If they managed that, the morning would pass pleasantly enough. Still, she’d spent hours by candlelight the night before writing out pages for Nell’s battle with the sea monster. If she didn’t get them to Lady Rushford and the others by the time they wrote the next passage in the novel, they might take the story off in another direction. She had to get them the material this morning.
With her work folded and inside an envelope, she searched through the house for the butler. He could have the pages and her note delivered, and she could rejoin her friends the next day. She’d searched the hallways without finding him and now had headed toward the stairs to the servant floor. As she approached the steps, she met another person coming up. She’d been so intent on finding Imrey, she hardly noticed the new male form until she’d quite bumped into him.
“I’m dreadfully sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She stepped back and found herself staring at Mr. Montgomery. She’d never stood so close to the man before. He was tall and imposing, and before she knew what had happened, she’d dropped the envelope with her manuscript pages. She bent to retrieve it, but he snatched it up first.
She extended her hand. “Thank you.”
“A letter,” he said. “To Lady Rushford.”
“My letter. I’d like it back, if you don’t mind.”
“Ah, but I do. I’ve taken rather an interest in the lady. I wonder what a child your age has to say to a widow of her stature.”
“I’m not a child, and that’s personal.” She reached for the envelope, but he held it away from her.
He gave her a sly glance. “Something to hide?”
“Of course not.”
“Then, you won’t mind if I have a look, hm?” He opened the envelope. When he saw the number of pages, his brow furrowed. “What is all this?”
“It’s nothing.” She lunged for the papers but again couldn’t reach them.
“It appears to be a story of some kind. Sea monsters. Really, Miss Northcross.”
“Please, Mr. Montgomery. You don’t want to look at that.”
“And there’s a letter,” he said. He scanned it briefly, and Lily’s heart sank. She’d filled the note with incriminating information—that this was a scene for the new Jack Sterling novel, that all three of the women worked together. She’d even mentioned how much care she’d taken not to be discovered.
When he’d finished, he returned all the pages to the envelope. “It would appear you have more than one talent, Miss Northcross.”
“Please, may I have that back?” Curse him. Why did she have to beg for her own property? Still, she’d better not anger him. She might persuade him to keep her secret if she approached him in the right manner.
“Of course.” He handed her the envelope and smiled at her amiably. At least, that’s what his expression looked like.
“I’d be most grateful if you kept the contents confidential. I’m not sure my brother would approve.”
“I understand. Male relations can be quite unreasonable where their young women are concerned.”
Calamity. Utter calamity. Ladies didn’t write things like Jack Sterling novels. Ladies, especially young ones, weren’t even supposed to know they existed, let alone read them. Now, this man had discovered that all four of them were engaged in the unthinkable. Lady Rushford might claim she had no care for her reputation, but she probably didn’t want to find herself at the center of a scandal like this. And the other two—Miss Pembroke and Mrs. Thornton—were much more careful in their dealings with others.
Jason would have a perfect fit if he found out how she spent her time at Carlton House, and she’d deserve every punishment he meted out. Not because of her writing, but because of her carelessness.
“Mr. Montgomery, may I appeal to your honor as a gentleman?” she said.
His eyebrow went up. He was no nobleman, and they both knew it. Still, he could act like a gentleman. Any decent fellow would.
“Of course you can. I’d rather you didn’t feel you had to ask.”
“It is a sensitive subject, as you can imagine,” she said.
“I was young once, too, Miss Northcross.”
Of course, Lady Rushford wasn’t young, and neither were her two friends. She’d leave that alone, though, if she could get his cooperation.
“Might I prevail on you to forget you saw that note?” she asked. “And especially the other pages.”
“I don’t carry tales.”
“Then you won’t say a word about what you’ve discovered?” she asked.
“You may trust me completely.” He continued smiling, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. She’d rather trust a viper, but she had no choice in the matter. No one in her family seemed to like the man. The rest of the party only tolerated him. Only Lady Deauville welcomed him here, which made no sense at all. Perhaps she only felt responsible for his presence here as she’d invited him to stay.
And wasn’t he walking a great deal better? He could probably leave whenever he wanted. Maybe, just maybe, if she blustered her way through a few more days, he’d leave and take her secret with him.
Yes, she only had to worry until he went away. That would happen soon. Everything would be fine if only she kept her head. She took her first good breath since he’d opened that envelope.
“Rest assured that your secret is safe,” he said.
“Thank you.” She gave him a confident smile, or as confident as she could make it under the circumstances.
With a nod, he left her, continuing to wherever he’d been headed when she’d bumped into him. She kept the envelope firmly between her fingers as she continued her search for the butler. The sooner she got these pages out of the house and on their way to Lady Rushford, the better.
*
The afternoon was warm enough that Bess nodded off, allowing her book to drop to her lap as she leaned back against the oak that spread its limbs far enough to reach out over the river. Though consciousness didn’t quite slip away, she nevertheless eased into a half-dreaming state, and that, of course, took her to the place dreams so often did now—into the embrace of a certain young man with green eyes and skillful fingers. This time, he sat beside her, his head against her shoulder as he nibbled at the base of her neck. His hands had gone wandering, along her calf, over her knee, and upward on her thigh toward the spot where she’d already begun to throb for him.
“Bess,” his voice came to her on the breeze, or maybe it was nothing more than air moving through the leaves of the tree. Could a tree make a sound so full of desire and longing? “Besssss.”
“Hm?” She snapped awake. She always did before the ultimate touch came. And she always discovered that her breasts felt full, and her breath was unsteady. Even imagining him could have a powerful effect on her, it seemed. Perhaps if she could sleep all the way through to the inevitable, she could experience the same miracle he’d wo
rked on her body. She could spend and get some relief from the constant need for him. A wicked thought, but no one need know about it. Clearly, getting over him would take more time and effort than she’d imagined.
She squinted into the sunlight beyond the branches and found another incongruous image. A man approached, leading a horse. No one she knew. No one like anyone she knew, with his dark skin. Tall and handsome and in English dress, he nevertheless had an exotic air about him. Deep brown eyes and hair as dark as midnight completed the picture. When he spotted her, he smiled, sparkling white teeth making a contrast to the rest of his face.
He stopped and bowed. “Well met, my lady.”
She rose. “May I be of help?”
“I’m a stranger here,” he said. “But then, you could guess that.”
His accent was British but not English. Not American, so he wasn’t one of their Indians. Indian! Of course. She should have known immediately.
“You’re a great distance from home, Mr. . . .”
“Singh.” He bowed again. “Vajra Singh, at your service, madam.”
“Well, Mr. Singh, how did you happen on Carlton House?”
“Carlton,” he said. “I’m close to Hollyfield Hall, then, no?”
“Quite close. Are you here to visit the viscount?”
“Not he himself,” Mr. Singh said. “But his brother.”
“Captain Northcross, then.”
He smiled. “Jason, yes.”
How interesting. The captain had served in India alongside Rose’s husband. He might have made friends, but who would have expected one of them to show up here?
“Can you tell me which direction?” he asked. “I seem to have gone lost somehow.”
“Of course, but won’t you join me and my friends for tea first?”
“My pleasure.”
She gestured up the path toward the house. “This way.”
The man walked beside her easily, as if he visited with noblewomen every day. In fact, he had his own regal air. Understated, as was true of all upper-class people not concerned with their own superiority. When they reached the garden entrance, he pushed the door open and held it for her. A proper gentleman and more and more handsome by the minute.
