Aunt Tilda’s eyes widened, and she shook her head.
Lorena sat down and Ashwick climbed in. His carriage was large, and yet he seemed to take up more space than the three women combined. His knee brushed her skirts and Lorena wondered if her heart would eventually just give out entirely, tired of all the racing it did whenever he was around.
He turned to Lorena. “Where to?”
Lorena didn’t know what to say.
“East London,” Aunt Tilda announced.
Ashwick frowned. “Why there?”
“We need a maid,” Aunt Tilda declared. Then when Ashwick continued to stare at her, she added, “So that we might have someone to serve tea.”
Ashwick’s eyes turned to Lorena and his eyes narrowed. “You were going to East London on your own? Do you know how dangerous it is there?”
Lorena frowned, not understanding his anger. “Don’t worry. If something were to happen to me, you’d be better off. Imagine a world where your house didn’t burn to the ground and all our encounters didn’t end in bloodshed.”
Ashwick’s anger seemed to grow with her every word, and though it was obvious that he wanted to say something, he didn’t. Instead, he quickly turned away and spoke to the man at the window. “Head east,” he told him.
The man went to do as his master told him and the carriage was off.
Ashwick then turned and gave her a look. “You and I need to have a talk.”
Lorena pressed her back into the corner of her carriage and tried to think of ways to avoid their ‘talk’.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
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The carriage stopped in front of Mrs. Potter’s Agency, a place known for hiring lads and girls for lower homes. Ashwick got out first and helped Aunt Tilda and Maura descend the steps. When it was Lorena’s turn, she slipped her hand into his, tried to ignore how wonderful it felt, and took her time getting down. Like the ninny that she was, she wanted this moment. She wanted to hold his hand while it was proper and so took advantage.
She first brushed out her skirts, which took a great deal of imaginary effort, and inspected her boots.
“Any day, my lady.” He sounded agitated. Lorena could only assume that it was because he didn’t want to offer her his hand any longer. She hid the pain as she met his eyes and all but jumped down the steps. When she was done, she tried to take her hand back, but Ashwick wouldn’t relent. The footman rushed to put away the steps, and while this went on, Ashwick kept hold of her hand. He tucked her hand into his arm, surprising her.
He led the way toward the door and gave the butler his card before they were shown into the small building. Once inside, he let her go entirely and spoke to the butler, completely taking over the entire situation. He reminded Lorena of her brother.
“We need to see Mrs. Potter for staffing.”
“Of course, my lord,” the butler replied, just as a maid appeared in the hallway. “Mary will show you to the drawing room and bring you tea and cakes.”
“And cakes?” Mary asked.
The butler lifted a brow.
Mary smiled and rushed away. It became obvious to Lorena that the maid was not used to serving cakes with the tea. She suspected it was Lord Ashwick who warranted the expense.
They followed Mary into the drawing room and sat while they waited for Mrs. Potter to arrive. Lorena all but pushed her way to one of the singular chairs, which would ensure that Ashwick was not allowed to have his ‘talk’ with her just yet.
When she was seated, she looked up at him and found him to be holding nothing back in the smile he sent her. She froze at his expression. Ashwick always looked beautiful, but when he smiled, she became disarmed. His smile was knowing and teasing. Instead of sitting at all, he took a position by her chair.
Lorena looked away and caught Aunt Tilda’s eyes.
Tilda was watching them closely, her eyes shifting from one of them to the other. Tilda noticed things, and sometimes, long before anyone else knew what was happening.
Maura, on the other hand, was looking around the room with a peaceful expression on her face.
The maid rushed in with teas and an assortment of cakes and left just as quickly. Her departure was followed by the arrival of Mrs. Potter.
Lorena sat up straighter as she caught sight of the striking woman. She was far younger than Lorena had pictured with black hair, dark eyes, and skin so white that every woman in the ton would envy her. Lorena looked over at her aunt and saw Tilda’s eyes narrow. Tilda always took issue when she felt she was no longer the most beautiful woman in the room. Family did not count.
Mrs. Potter stopped at Aunt Tilda’s chair first and her eyes widened. “Are you Mrs. Matilda Shaw?”
Aunt Tilda straightened. “I am.” She was still glaring at Mrs. Potter.
Mrs. Potter, however, offered Aunt Tilda a beautiful smile. “Oh, I so admire your work.”
“My work?” Aunt Tilda asked.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Potter said. “Your life is like art in motion. You’re an inspiration to all young women. Beautiful and challenging what is known. Not to mention you are Tailor and Taylor’s only female client.” Tailor and Taylor were… tailors, but had been responsible for every outrageous creation that Aunt Tilda had ever worn. Only for Aunt Tilda were they ever dressmakers and only Aunt Tilda dared to wear their clothes.
Aunt Tilda slowly grinned. She laughed. “Well, it is always wonderful to be admired.”
Lorena heard Lord Ashwick chuckle behind her.
Aunt Tilda asked, “But I did think you were older, dear.”
“You must be speaking about my mother-in-law,” Mrs. Potter said. “When she died, my husband and I took over.”
“Is your husband here?” Aunt Tilda asked, being quite nosey and not seeming to care.
“He died over a year ago,” Mrs. Potter informed her.
Lorena’s heart ached for the woman until she turned to look at Ashwick.
He was grinning in the direction of Mrs. Potter, but when his eyes moved to her, his smile fell and he frowned in a confused matter. It was only then that Lorena realized she’d been glaring at him and turned away.
Mrs. Potter curtsied before Ashwick. “My lord, I would be honored to serve you.”
Lorena narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Potter. Though the woman’s voice held none of the flirty tones she’d heard other women use with Ashwick, her words could not be taken as anything but an offer of the lewdest sort, could it?
“Actually,” Lorena cut in, ready to tell that woman that not only was it her house that they were staffing, but she’d decided to go somewhere else for her needs.
Ashwick cut her off. “We’re looking for enough to fill two homes.”
“Two?” Lorena turned to stare at him.
“Oh, my lord,” Mrs. Potter said. “Is this your wife?”
Ashwick opened his mouth.
Lorena cut him off for a change. “Never mind that. Will you be able to accommodate us or should we look elsewhere?”
The question caught Mrs. Potter off guard. And from the looks of it, the rest of the room. Lorena didn’t even turn to look at Ashwick’s expression but she did feel his hand settle on her shoulder and squeeze her into silence.
“Mrs. Potter,” Ashwick said in what Lorena was sure was the voice he used to soothe his women. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Potter turned to leave.
Ashwick’s hand slid to Lorena’s arm, and he pulled her up from the chair. “Actually.” His words stopped Mrs. Potter’s movement. “You may stay and speak to Mrs. Shaw. We will be back momentarily.” Then, without waiting for a reply, he led Lorena out of the room, down the hall, and out the door.
Lorena didn’t start to fight him until they reached the hall. She all but yanked her arm out of his hold once th
ey reached the steps. She was furious. “How dare you handle me as though I were a child?”
Ashwick cut into her immediately. “If you would cease from acting like one, I wouldn’t have to drag you from the room. You were completely rude to Mrs. Potter.”
“Me?” Lorena said with a start. “She all but offered to warm your bed.” Then Lorena blinked. “Oh, pardon me. She did offer, didn’t she? Well, don’t let me stand in your way.” She quickly turned away before the pain could be reflected in her eyes.
“Lorena.” Ashwick grabbed her arm again.
Lorena didn’t turn to look at him. “You’re causing a scene.” Then she knew what Ashwick saw as he looked out into the poor streets of East London. There were men and women staring at them, and she counted the seconds until he would let her go.
He didn’t let her go.
Instead, he marched her to the carriage, all but threw her in, then climbed in after her.
Lorena was so upset, she didn’t know where to start to express her fury. “First, you drag me from the street. Then you force your presence on me by accompanying us to look for servants. Then you flirt with—”
“I wasn’t flirting,” Ashwick cut in. It was the only point he seemed to take issue with.
Lorena huffed and continued, “Then you all but drag me out.”
“You were being rude,” Ashwick told her with narrowed eyes.
“Well, I thought we were at an employment agency, not a brothel.” Then she glared at him and held his eyes.
Their eyes held and Ashwick’s turned into slits before they widened.
Lorena did not like that expression on his face.
“You’re jealous,” he accused. “You’re jealous of Mrs. Potter?”
“Of course not!” Lorena cried, though her body felt like a pot of boiling water, shaking with tribulation.
Ashwick’s grin became wicked and slow. “Lorena,” he said before he leaned back on his side of the carriage and crossed his arms. He watched her with something deep within his eyes.
“I’m not jealous,” she pleaded. “In fact, I don’t even want to be here. I can’t afford a staff.”
“Let’s go back to you being jealous,” he taunted.
“No,” Lorena said, turning away. “I don’t even have a reason to be jealous.”
“Exactly,” Ashwick replied. “You don’t.”
Lorena’s head snapped back toward him and her chest felt as though it was closing in on her. A pain almost great enough to blind her vision set in and she struggled to pull air. She knew she had no future with Ashwick but that didn’t mean he had to spit it in her face with such cruelty. She knew he was not hers. He never would be.
She watched as his smile fell away but turned to the door before she could see anything else. She rose from the seat, ready and needing to make an escape, to get away from him.
She didn’t get far.
“Lorena.” He grabbed her and pulled her down until she fell into his lap.
She gasped and tried to scramble off him. “Ashwick—”
“Lorena,” he whispered, and his breath brushed the back of her ear right before his lips did.
Lorena shuddered and closed her eyes.
His hands at her waist were firm, and through the thin muslin of her dress and petticoat, Lorena could feel him. His powerful chest and legs. The body of a rider. His hands moved and spread over her stomach before pressing her more into him, her name a continued whisper from his lips.
Lorena felt a humming sensation rise between her legs, so painful that she could barely breathe. “Ashwick,” she whispered. She didn’t know what she wanted... but then she did. She needed to get away from him and the fire he’d started in her. She needed to leave the carriage to relieve the pain. She didn’t like it.
“Let me go.” She didn’t even understand what was happening to her. To them. Ashwick flirted. All the Men of Nashwood flirted, but this was different. Ashwick was more aggressive. And just like any other time she’d received his attention, she knew she couldn’t take it seriously. When Ashwick didn’t unhand her, she shouted, “Let me go!”
“No.”
No?
Then he proceeded to turn her around until she was facing him. At least, her body was, but she avoided his eyes. Until he forced them toward him by placing his hands on her jaw.
She glared at him and said, “Are you done? I’m tired of this game.”
“We’ve never been playing a game,” he informed her.
Lorena’s entire body went tense, but she didn’t allow herself to jump to conclusions. Instead, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“Darling, what I mean is,” he whispered with calm gray eyes just as his thumb stroked her bottom lip, “we need to talk.”
Darling.
The ache between her legs started again and there was that word again. Talk. And now more than ever, Lorena wasn’t sure she was ready for it.
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CHAPTER EIGHT
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Ashwick didn’t get the chance to speak to Lorena because he heard Mrs. Shaw’s voice just before the footman opened the door for her. He’d had just enough time to slide Lorena onto the seat next to him before her aunt glanced in, looking merry.
“Mrs. Potter said she’ll send over everyone we will need.”
Lorena sighed and gave her aunt a hard look before she said, “But we don’t have the money for servants.”
“I’ll pay the servants’ wages,” Ashwick told her.
“No!” She turned her heated blue eyes in his direction. “I am not a kept woman. You are not allowed to pay for my servants.” She caught another wind of breath and continued, “I didn’t even want to come here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t need servants. I’ve been living splendidly on my own. I don’t want to be in your debt any more than I already am,” she told him. “I can never repay you for the staff. Never. So, please listen to me when I tell you that I don’t want them.”
Tilda sighed. “Very well. I’ll—”
“No,” Ashwick said again, his own anger growing. “A woman should not be in a house alone. You need servants. True servants. Not Mr. Sudworth, who’s likely to steal the china when you turn your back.”
“I’ll have you know,” Lorena cut in, “that I don’t have china.” Then she grinned as though she’d won. “Further, servants steal from homes all the time.”
The last bit was true but it didn’t change Ashwick’s mind. “Servants protect you, and I’ll not have you without them.” Then he turned toward her aunt and said, “You and Miss Maura may board. We’re leaving.”
“No!” Lorena shouted again and this time, she rose. “What don’t you understand? I will not be in your debt.”
Ashwick wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down, this time, on his lap. Right in front of her aunt. He didn’t care. She was being irrational.
Lorena gasped and turned her head to look at him. “Let me go!”
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Me?” Lorena cried. “You’re all but compromising me in front of my aunt.”
“Oh, let’s not overreact, dear,” Matilda said with a smile. She and Maura were both seated. “His lordship only wishes to give you servants. What is the harm in that?”
“Betrayed by my own blood in exchange for servants,” Lorena grunted as she fought against him. Ashwick only held her tighter and tried to fight the pleasure her bottom brought about as it moved in his lap. She was so soft, and she smelled heavenly. “The harm is that he will seek payment.”
Tilda lifted her eyes to Ashwick and asked, “Is this true, my lord?”
Ashwick groaned inwardly. It had been true. He would have sought payment for everything. He wanted Lorena so far in his debt that she knew he owned her body and spirit. He saw no other way to accomplish this. Lorena
was not a woman who would simply obey because they were wed. She’d spend a lifetime disobeying him.
A part of him looked forward to that.
He tightened his hold. “No, I offer the servants as a gift in friendship.”
“We’re not friends,” Lorena huffed. She’d stopped fighting, knowing the point was futile and proceeded to cross her arms and rest them on his arm wrapped around her waist. Her head laid back on his shoulder, yet even though he held her securely, she would not give up the fight entirely. Another man would believe she didn’t want his attention, but Ashwick knew better.
She had been jealous of Mrs. Potter, after all.
“We are friends,” Ashwick told her, speaking close to her ear. “At least, I think of you as a friend.”
He felt her body tense, but she said nothing, so he glanced up at Matilda to gain her reaction. Matilda was studying Lorena’s face with a small smile.
So Ashwick went on, “Can you imagine a life without out one of us getting bloodied at least once a year? And just think, we’ve been together for two hours thus far and no disasters.”
Matilda was now grinning at Lorena. She threw her head back and laughed. Maura smiled widely.
Ashwick turned his head to look at Lorena just as she turned to look at him.
She didn’t look upset anymore, but her eyes didn’t watch him with caution. He thought that was wise. He had every intention of having her.
“Two hours,” she whispered. “Not a record.”
“It is for such close confines,” he told her.
“Something disastrous will occur,” she said, now relaxing in his hold as though this was something they did every day. As though it was the most natural thing to do.
He liked that.
Lorena went on, “In an hour or two, one of us will have regretted this entire day. If one of isn’t struck ill then something of value will break.”
Lady Lorena’s Spinster’s Society ( The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 7
