by Julia Donner
My Precious strolled to the couch corner and started to lift his tail at the shredded damask. Annabelle hissed at him, sending the cat crawling under the couch he’d been about to ruin. Again.
Annabelle flounced across the room and pressed a cheek to Adele’s. “Good morning. I was on my way to Spitalfields Manse and thought I would stop to see if all went well with Mr. Morrison.”
“It did indeed. I have the packet here.” She lifted her skirts and withdrew the envelope she’d hidden, tied with a second garter around her thigh.
After accepting the envelope and tucking it into her reticule, Annabelle asked, “Did you keep some for yourself?”
Adele shook out and patted down her skirt. “I have plenty. Take one of the banknotes for yourself.”
“No. I can’t be so selfish. The children need all of this and more. When is the next volume delivered?”
“I haven’t written it yet. Perhaps you could help. I fear I’m becoming repetitive.”
“Come now, Adele, use those vulgar pictures you found among your parents’ things.” She shuddered delicately. “I haven’t your stout stomach and scarcely enough temper to bolster my courage. I fully understand how you have used them as inspiration, but do not ever again suggest that I look at them. Do you think my future husband will expect such…deviations?”
Adele looped her arm through her friend’s and strolled to the door. “Heavens no, dear. They save that sort of thing for their mistresses.”
Annabelle paused by the door, her perfect features somehow made more attractive when she distorted them to ponder a troublesome thought. “I might not mind doing some of the things you write about…if he were the right husband.”
“Thomas, for instance?” Adele suggested with a grin.
“I can’t help being mad for him. Oh, why couldn’t he have a title and not be a mere Honorable?”
Adele opened the door, “He will one day, even if it’s a mere barony. Has your father set his cap at the earl, the prince or the duke?”
“All three of them came to speak to him yesterday.”
“Oh, dear. Too old, too dim, tres sangfroid?”
“They’re so…I can’t explain it.”
“The difficulty lies in that they are not your darling Thomas.” Adele squeezed her friend’s hand as they descended to the foyer.
“Precisely, but I am not entirely assured that you are fortunate in your family’s choice for a husband.”
“My choice.”
“No matter whose choice.” Annabelle shook her head, bobbing the ribbons and flowers on her bonnet. “He’s certainly a fine looking gentleman, but his reputation, dearest Adele. I know how much you yearn for privacy, but marriage might make the matter more difficult.”
“It is a purely convenient arrangement. We shall have separate apartments. And he is not the sort of gentleman to crash through my door, as Cousin Vera does whenever she wishes. Mr. Treadwell will ask permission and likely give me advance notice. After an heir is born, I shall be allowed to go my own way, and he, his.”
They paused at the base of the steps, where Annabelle whispered, “It sounds so dreadfully cold.”
Adele made a moue. “It is the way of ton marriages.”
Concern flooded Annabelle’s sky-blue eyes. “My dearest friend, I fear you have made a rash decision in accepting his proposal. The particulars you arranged with him in private are not consistent with the law.” After a glance around to look for listening ears, she whispered, “What if he changes his mind and becomes as intrusive as your cousin? How can we carry on with our work if he discovers why you need complete privacy to…you know?”
“It is his reputation that encouraged me to accept. He’s hedonistic, a sensualist, not a man of strong principles, not in any way like his father. He confirmed that today with his unbridled actions.”
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Unbridled?”
Still inundated by the dregs of his kiss, Adele chuckled, startled by the unfamiliar, sultry sound. “Not to worry. I may have a device to control Mr.Treadwell until I have matters sorted out to our needs. And that of our cause, of course. If the next volume is delayed, I have hidden away a cache of funds where no one will find it, enough to tide us over for a few months.”
She escorted her friend out the entry and down to the curb, where Annabelle turned to whisper, “What if it takes longer than a few months to conceive?”
“Then it does. There is no reason why I can’t lie back and contemplate king and country as well as the next wife. Once it is done, he will hie himself off to his friends and ladyloves and leave me in peace.”
“Oh, Adele, something tells me that Mr. Treadwell is hiding some secret aspect of his personality that may impinge on all of our careful plans. His father is so…exacting, so particular in every way. What if he takes after his father after you marry?”
She recalled his vow of fidelity and shrugged off a niggling worry. “For such an intelligent female, you are sounding hopelessly silly. Off you go. Please send my best regards to everyone.”
Adele nodded to Hazel, her friend’s maid, waiting in the carriage. Another conspirator, since Hazel had relatives at Spitalfields Manse, and the East End was not an area to visit alone.
She watched the coach swerve around a fish peddler’s cart and head west. Whatever had gotten into Annabelle’s head? Mr. Treadwell was the best choice of all. His motive was to appease his family while achieving freedom to pursue his own comforts and wants. He would scarcely notice her, unless fulfilling the reproductive expectations of his family. The things he’d said today had confirmed that any well-dowered female of good character and family would do, but it was also a relief to learn that he didn’t find her off-putting. That would make producing the heir that much simpler. And one didn’t wish to be thought of as a trial in any sense. A dull ache came with that thought—the notion of him merely doing his duty and not enjoying the process. Why that should bother her, she wasn’t sure.
She shook off doubts as she went up the steps and into the house. The chapter she’d been working on last evening had been left unfinished. Vera wouldn’t rise from her bed for another two hours. Time to write without an ear tuned for approaching footsteps.
She nodded to the footman holding open the entry door. As she climbed the staircase, old insecurities she’d thought conquered infiltrated her cluttered thoughts about the challenges ahead, challenges that must be dealt with before Gordon Treadwell became the owner of this house and of her finances. The many tasks collided with the nagging memory of a kiss that had left something within unfinished.
Chapter 10
After his abrupt leave taking from Miss Prim, Gordon started walking, his mind in a whirl, and kept going even when he’d left Mayfair and headed toward the bad end of London. Recognizing where his mental state had taken him, he veered off in the direction of the nearest park to walk off his confusion. Then he remembered that he’d left his horse at Miss Primrose’s house. A combination of chagrin and disgust burned his cheeks as he retraced his steps. He halted on the corner when he saw Adele and another young lady exiting the house.
The unexpected sight of the famed Miss Annabelle Percival with staid Adele Primrose cleared his mind somewhat. They didn’t seem the likeliest females to pair up in friendship, but the way in which they spoke to each other, with such obvious affection, increased his suspicions that Miss Adele Primrose was nothing like what she lead everyone to believe. For one thing, she’d returned his kiss, melting against him, receiving him with languid, receptive greed. And that sound she’d made, a soft, feminine hum of appreciation, the kind of encouragement that drove a man onward and into a frenzy. He’d had enough lovers who faked that response, but Adele hadn’t pretended. She couldn’t have. He could tell by her kiss that she’d never done so before. And she confessed that she’d reached her age without having been kissed. Sacrilegious, in his opinion, a waste. She was a woman meant for sex, even if she was dashed prickly on the outside.
&n
bsp; Then it registered that he was about to marry a treasure trove of untried sexuality, have her on hand whenever he wanted. How convenient. Why had he never realized this extraordinary benefit of marriage? No sneaking around, making complex arrangements for assignations, finding specific doors at country house parties. There was no forgetting the time he’d entered the wrong room. His mind skittered from the memory.
How soon could he visit her again, assure himself that he hadn’t imagined that kiss? Tomorrow. Yes, he could rummage up a plausible reason to be on her doorstep tomorrow.
In the end it was so easy, the excuse so obvious. He called at the proper time of day, afternoon, and brought a bouquet of violets. A nice touch, he thought, as he handed off his hat and gloves. The cat wandered up the hallway as he waited, smelly thing. In the event Mrs. Abercrombie might suddenly appear, he nudged the cat away with his ankle. It hissed and growled. He quelled the urge to deal it a boot across the lobby and into the wall. He’d didn’t like the vile creature making poor Miss Prim’s life a misery with its stench and nasty habits.
The butler came to take him to his intended in the drawing-room, where she sat with a book, a window open to draw in fresh air. She set it aside, looked at him with curious bewilderment, then observed in her typical, blunt way, “Mr. Treadwell, here again so soon. Did you forget something yesterday?”
When she gestured to a nearby chair, he was relieved she hadn’t indicated the clawed-up couch that reeked of cat spray. Since she had no intention of observing the civilities of discussing weather, health and so on, he said, “The ceremony is only ten days away. I thought it might be of interest to you that Showers has located an excellent establishment for your cousins, available immediately. I hope you don’t mind that it isn’t in Mayfair.”
“Not at all. And yes, I am quite pleased to hear it, but who is Showers?”
“Ah, yes, my manservant. In the past, the poor fellow has had to do everything for me while in my employ. I suspect he will be vastly appreciative of coming to a residence where he no longer must do and be all things. To be fair, he’s something of a magician. He does the work of so many in what seems like a moment. I would be utterly lost without him.”
“He sounds an exemplary sort of servant. You will be bringing him with you, then?”
“Oh, yes. As I said, I cannot do without him.”
“Would he be insulted if I asked him to consider a position here as butler? My aunt’s major domo wishes to go with her.”
“You may certainly ask him, or I shall, if you prefer. There is nothing beyond his ability, and this house is much smaller than the one purchased for Mr. and Mrs. Abercrombie.”
“I’m glad of that. She’s absconding with her favorite servants and never bothered to ask if I should mind. It wouldn’t surprise me if she confiscates the silver.”
“Showers is up to any task. The house recently purchased has more rooms than this one. It’s almost twice the size.”
“Yes, as you’ve already said, but a larger dwelling will appease Cousin Vera. She harbors hopes that I will change my mind and have her stay on. I may have to ask you to persuade her not to do so.”
He abruptly extended the flowers. She accepted them with a detached sort of expression, as if she didn’t know what they meant or what to do with them. “These are for me? I had thought you’d brought them for Cousin Vera.”
An awkward silence ensued. Miss Prim hastily stuck her nose into the tender purple blossoms, smiled briefly, and inserted the stems in a nearby pitcher of water on the refreshment tray.
“Thank you, sir. They are lovely. My first bouquet. You haven’t taken a seat. Do you wish to stay for tea?”
“Don’t care for the stuff, actually. Prefer coffee or claret.”
When she moved to the tray, he stopped her with a touch on her arm. She looked up with an expression of polite inquiry, which melted into a heavy-lidded daze when she dropped her attention to his mouth. Every muscle in his body tightened. How was he going to wait days to have her? Something had to be done to distract him from the draw to those curiosity-parted lips.
He gently cleared his throat and retreated a step. “I believe I saw Miss Percival yesterday. I did not know you were friends.”
It didn’t help his overheated condition that she had difficulty pulling her gaze from his mouth. “Uhm, yes. We have…mutual interests.”
Then she looked wary, even nervous, a sudden and wholly unexpected change from a moment before. Who would have thought the staid Miss Primrose possessed a mercurial bent? But prior to yesterday, he certainly hadn’t noticed the wanton under the absurdly plain clothes she wore until they kissed. For a moment, the incongruity of her true personality and the manner in which she chose to portray herself as sober and uninspiring flitted through his head. Why would she do that? Then she again stared at his mouth. The bloom of color on her cheeks confirmed they were thinking the same thing, recalling yesterday’s kiss.
A single stride brought him to stand in front of her. She gazed up, her head tilted slightly, a mixture of awe and curiosity in her eyes. He knew his looks appealed to females and wasn’t above using it on occasion, but this was the woman he would marry. Legally, she was already his. A thrill of possession seized his chest and rippled down his arms with a sudden need to hold the woman that was his.
He captured her wrist and lifted it to nuzzle aside the long cuff. He pressed his lips on the pulse. The steady beat under the tender flesh increased. He peered at her from under lowered lashes and saw that she watched him with dazed enchantment.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
After a gentle nip on the fleshy mound under her thumb, he said, “A necessary substitute.”
And there it was, that tiny catch of breath, the telltale sound of the response he wanted to hear. Validation. The wanting detonated in a rush of desire, clenching his insides like a vise.
She closed her mouth and tipped her head to one side to study him. “Are you going to kiss me now?”
As much as he yearned to, he knew how foolish that would be. He was hanging on by the thinnest thread of decency. A visitor could walk in at any moment. Mrs. Abercrombie might enforce her ownership of Adele or finally bestir herself to play the role of chaperone. The last thing they needed was servant gossip burning its way across town only days before the ceremony they hoped to keep small and quiet.
He wished she wouldn’t make herself so willing, so desirable. He might entertain brief, blistering images of taking her in a frenzy of lust, but she was a virgin. That would be a first for him and enough to cool the yen threatening to take control. But he couldn’t resist a taste, the merest something to salve the wait.
He closed the gap between them. She held her ground when he leaned down to whisper against her mouth. “Would love more than anything to kiss you, my delicious Miss Prim, but we mustn’t.”
He smiled at her ingenuous reaction when she gulped and her eyes widened. “I-I don’t think I would…mind.”
He edged closer, his chest brushing hers. “But you see, I would mind it very much, because we would have to stop at some point.” He paused to kiss the center of her palm. “So frustrating. And I can’t wait to eat up every delicious inch of you.”
Bloody hell, had he really said that out loud?
The interesting thing was that she hadn’t run screaming from the room. He lifted his head to gauge her reaction. Her lips formed a soft circle of wonderment. Her eyes had glazed over and her cheeks flushed pink.
Before he lost every vestige of what his father and mentors had bludgeoned into his head as the actions of a true gentleman, he stepped back and released her wrist. After a respectful incline of his head, he took another step backward.
He searched for his voice and gently cleared his throat. “Perhaps it would be wise not to visit for a while, especially in circumstances where we are left alone together. Your cousin is appallingly lax in her responsibilities.”
Damn it all, now he sounded like his f
ather. What was happening? Where had goodtime Gordie gone?
She said nothing, still stunned and gaping, probably due to the horrendously inappropriate remark. Mustn’t envision what that entailed at the moment.
With a stiff smile, he wished her a good day, got out of the room and her house. He nodded to Mrs. Abercrombie as she came to greet him, flew by her, and shot out into the street. Fresh air and open spaces helped clear his head.
He climbed into the hackney. He’d forgotten that he’d asked the driver to wait. Plenty of blunt to pay the fellow now. Once the contracts had been signed, his father turned over his quarterly allowance early. In days, he wouldn’t need it. Marriage to Miss Primrose was going to make him a wealthy man. He had enough blunt to buy a bauble and test the waters at tonight’s soirée—find himself a willing female to vent some of the randy urges the enticing Miss Prim evoked whenever he looked at her.
It was all quite surprising and unexpected, this intense attraction to her. Many women had come and gone, women he’d been attracted to and thoroughly enjoyed, but never had he experienced the fierceness, the pull that flared whenever he was with Adele Primrose. Even more surprising was that the thought of being with another woman made something inside him twist and veer away from the idea.
Good God, perhaps he was becoming his father.
Chapter 11
Gordon brought reinforcements when he next visited Miss Primrose’s house. The advantage to a lifetime of making mistakes was that one—hopefully—learned from them. Much had to be done before the wedding, mainly the removal of her cousins. He knew enough about himself that he preferred to delegate. He’d told Showers to hire an agent to purchase the house and not close by. For as little time as he’d known Mr. and Mrs. Abercrombie, the association was ample. But for today’s visit, he was using his own relocating arrangements as an excuse to accomplish an ulterior motive.
