by Anna Bradley
He groaned, but in the next moment he tore his mouth from hers with a gasp, and his head fell back against the carriage seat. “This isn’t…we have to stop.” But even as he said the words, his hands tightened on her hips to keep her on his lap, as if he couldn’t quite bear to release her yet. “I was trying to warn you not to tempt a man…but I didn’t know I’d…I had no idea I’d want you so much.” His eyes softened as he gazed at her. “I never should have touched you.”
Violet touched a finger to his lips. “You didn’t. I touched you.”
He gazed at her for a moment, with eyes such a dark gray now they were nearly black.
Violet continued to trace his lips, and something tugged hard at her chest as she watched her fingers stroking him. It felt like…
Tenderness.
An experiment, a chapter in her book—how foolish it seemed now, how absurd, to imagine arousal was something clinical she could test, something she could manipulate on a whim.
And Lord Dare…
Did she truly believe she could control a man like him? The moment her lips touched his she was lost to him, drowning in desire, and it wasn’t just because he was handsome, or because he knew how to touch a woman in a way that made her forget everything but his mouth, his hands, the desperate rasp of his breath in her ears.
No, it was so much more than that. Honora had called him a rake, a debaucher, and after what she’d witnessed in the library between him and Lady Uplands, Violet had thought so too, but since then…
He was so much more than he appeared to be, and why should that be so surprising? A handsome face, a scarlet waistcoat…such things were no more the whole of him than her sketchbook and pencils were the whole of her.
She should have known—should have seen it at once yesterday when he’d stood between her and the Thames River, waiting patiently while she finished her sketch.
His boots had gotten soaked.
A soft laugh escaped Violet as she thought of the consternation on his face when he’d realized they were very likely ruined.
Lord Dare opened his eyes. They stared at each other, neither of them saying a word, but something changed between them as his gray eyes caught and held her blue ones. The mood shifted, grew heavier, weighted down with something Violet couldn’t define. An emotion between them they hadn’t given voice to before now, some sense of expectation.
Unanswered questions.
Lies.
She had to tell him the truth, but once she did he’d never wish to see her again, and before that happened, she had to show him how much it meant to her to know there was a gentleman who understood exactly who she was, and desired her in spite of it.
Or maybe, just maybe…because of it.
Violet reached for him and trailed her fingertips over his cheekbones. She watched his eyes as she gently traced his eyebrows, his lips, and his jaw, and her breath caught at the flicker of heat in his gaze as she dragged her fingertips down his neck.
He let out a low moan, and his throat moved in a convulsive swallow. “It feels so good when you touch me, sweet.”
Violet didn’t answer, but she held his gaze as she settled her hands on his wide shoulders and began to arch against his lap, the movement of her hips slow and sinuous.
“No. Don’t.”
He gripped her hips to still her, but Violet grasped his wrists and dragged his hands away. “Shhhh. I want to. Not as an experiment, or for a sketch, or for the bluestockings.” A faint smile drifted over her lips. “For you. Just you.”
His thighs had gone tense underneath her, but now he looked into her eyes, and whatever he saw there made his hands go limp around her waist. He watched her as if mesmerized, his breath quickening and deepening to harsh gasps as her hips continued their insistent rhythm.
His mouth opened, and low, broken pleas fell from his lips. “Don’t stop…faster, sweetheart…yes, now take me harder…yes…you’re going to make me come…”
Violet wanted to shout in triumph when she saw he’d come too far in his passion to stop, and he gave in to her completely. A desperate moan tore from his chest as he steadied her against him, his hips taking up her rhythm until he was thrusting helplessly against her.
“Oh, God, I’m going to…you’re making me—”
His words trailed off into a long groan as he jerked hard against her once, then again, and then his entire body went rigid, and he pulled her to him to bury his face between her neck and shoulder.
As he panted against her, Violet slid her fingers into his hair and played with the dark strands until he slowly regained his breath, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
When he’d calmed at last, he turned his head on her shoulder, pressed his mouth to her ear and began to speak, to tell her how much he wanted her, how she’d given him so much pleasure, and his voice, dear God, his voice, so sweet, a bit breathless still and murmuring to her, coaxing her now, a whisper in her ear, a low rasp Violet knew she’d hear in her dreams.
“I want to touch you now, and give you pleasure.” He slid a hand under her skirts and wrapped his warm fingers around her thigh. “Will you let me do that for you? Will you let me touch you, Hyacinth?”
Violet froze in shock, her hands stilling in his hair, and the cocoon of warmth that had wrapped itself around her vanished with that one word, like mists giving way to a sudden rain.
Hyacinth.
A reminder, and one she badly needed, but no less painful for it.
“No, I—no, my lord.” She forced herself to remove her hands from his hair, reached down and gently pushed his hand away from her thigh, then slid off his lap and crammed herself into the corner of the carriage, as far away from him as she could get.
Silence fell, and it grew heavier as the moments ticked by. She avoided his gaze, instead taking great care to tidy her skirts. When the tension between them became so thick it threatened to suck all the air from the carriage, Lord Dare cleared his throat.
“Have I done something wrong?” His voice was subdued, but it seemed loud in the quiet carriage.
No. I have.
Violet made herself meet his eyes, and her heart kicked in protest as the confusion on his face began to give way to regret. She forced her lips into a stiff smile. “Not at all, my lord. It’s just…we’re nearly to Bedford Square.”
She waved a hand toward the window, but he didn’t follow the gesture. He was staring at her, his mouth tight. “Shall I call on you tomorrow, then?”
Violet hid her hands in her skirts so he couldn’t see the way they shook. “I don’t think we should—”
She broke off as her gaze caught on something outside the window. Lord Dare’s coachman had made the turn that led to her grandmother’s door, and there, sitting at the top of the drive, with luggage strewn across the stairs and footmen swarming about, was Lady Atherton’s carriage.
Violet’s body went cold with dread.
Lord Dare followed her gaze. “Is that your grandmother? I wondered why I never found her at home. It looks as if she’s been away.”
“Bath.” Violet’s voice was faint. “I didn’t expect her back so soon.”
He’d been looking out the window, but now he turned to face her, and he must have seen something in her expression he didn’t like, because his face hardened. “Well, what luck she should have arrived now, just as I’ve brought you home. I can meet her at last.”
“I don’t think now is the best time—”
“Given my current disheveled state, I’d normally agree with you.” He waved a hand to indicate his breeches, and Violet’s face flooded with embarrassed heat. “But introductions to your family have been rather difficult to come by, Miss Somerset, so I’d just as soon seize the chance while I have it. Fortunately for both of us, my cloak will hide any irregularities.”
Violet was ready to scream, or swoon, or leap fro
m the moving carriage—anything to keep Lord Dare from meeting her grandmother, but his lips had thinned with determination, and before she could think of a way to dissuade him, Lady Chase herself appeared in the doorway to issue orders to the footmen, and spotted the coach coming up the drive.
Oh, no. Violet shrank back against the carriage seat. She was well and truly caught this time. There was no escaping the introductions now that her grandmother had seen them, and it was inevitable Lady Chase would call her by name. All it needed now was for Hyacinth herself to appear, so Lord Dare could see for himself the depth of her deception.
The carriage came to a stop on the drive. Lord Dare leapt down at once to open the door and hand Violet out. She tried to make herself slide across the seat, alight, and come face to face with her sins, but as was likely the case with every criminal, her limbs locked in place, refusing to approach the gibbet.
“Miss Somerset?” Lord Dare stuck his head back inside the carriage and beckoned to her with one crooked finger. “Are you coming out?”
She didn’t have much choice, did she? It wasn’t as if she could keep hiding the truth from Lord Dare forever. He may as well find out now, and if a lie was going to be revealed, it may as well be done spectacularly.
“Yes.” She accepted his hand and let him pull her from the carriage.
As soon as she alighted on the drive, her grandmother, who’d been staring curiously at Lord Dare, let out a little cry of welcome. “Well, child, here you are, and just as I’ve arrived. Well, come here and let me see you, and you must bring your companion, as well.”
Lord Dare politely offered his arm, but he frowned down at her when he realized he wasn’t escorting her across the drive so much as dragging her.
“Welcome home, Grandmother.” Violet pressed a dutiful kiss to her grandmother’s thin, powdery cheek. “How does Lady Atherton do?”
“Fit as I’ve ever seen her, dear. Astonishing, really, she should feel herself so very well after such a short stay in Bath, but then she did drink a great quantity of the waters while we were there, so I daresay that accounts for her quick recovery.”
“I’m pleased to hear it, ma’am.”
Lady Chase, who’d turned to Lord Dare with a great deal of interest, waved this off. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you are, but my goodness, have you forgotten your manners entirely? Who is this gentleman?”
Panic pressed down on Violet’s chest. She struggled to take a breath, but her voice sounded thin as she made the introductions. “Lord Dare, may I present my grandmother, Lady Chase? Grandmother, this is Lord Dare. He’s recently returned to London from the Continent.”
Lord Dare offered Lady Chase a polite bow and a charming smile. “It’s a pleasure, Lady Chase.”
“Well, Lord Dare. How do you do? I believe I know your aunt—Lady Westcott, isn’t it? I haven’t seen her for quite some time. She doesn’t go out in society anymore, does she?”
“No, not much, my lady.”
“No, I thought not. And your father has recently passed away, I think? Sad business. I do beg you will accept my condolences, and pass them on to your aunt.”
“Thank you, Lady Chase. I will, indeed.”
Lord Dare and Lady Chase seemed to run out of conversation then, and Violet was too busy praying for the ground to open up and swallow her to have anything to offer, so a short, awkward silence fell.
Lady Chase, who could never tolerate silence for long, spoke up at last. “How are you acquainted with my granddaughter, my lord?”
“I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Somerset at Lord and Lady Derrick’s dinner party a week ago, and she’s been kind enough to receive my calls since then, my lady.”
Lady Chase’s eyes went wide at this. “Indeed? Well, my dear, you didn’t say a word about accepting calls from Lord Dare.”
“I, ah—well, you were off to Bath so quickly, Grandmother, I didn’t have a chance—”
“No matter, no matter, child.” Lady Chase assessed her with a shrewd eye, then turned to sweep a considering gaze over Lord Dare. “How wonderful the two of you should have happened to meet.”
Violet barely managed to stifle a groan. She saw at once what her grandmother was thinking, as clearly as if she could read Lady Chase’s mind. Here was a charming suitor for her most troublesome granddaughter, an earl, no less, and he’d been dropped right into their laps out of nowhere, like a tall, handsomely wrapped gift from heaven itself. The only thing that could please Lady Chase more was to return from Bath to find Violet already betrothed.
Or better yet, married.
Never mind that her precious granddaughter had been out with a gentleman Lady Chase hadn’t met, without a chaperone, or that she’d been accepting his calls during her grandmother’s absence, and without her permission. If Violet could only bring him up to scratch, all would be forgiven.
“I’ll take my leave, as I’m sure you must be fatigued from your trip, my lady. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Lord Dare bowed to Lady Chase, then turned to Violet and bowed politely over her hand, as well. “Thank you for your charming company today, Miss Somerset. I enjoyed our outing even more than I anticipated.” He had his back to Lady Chase, and a wicked smile only Violet could see crossed his lips, leaving her in no doubt as to what he meant by that. “Until tomorrow, then.”
It wasn’t until Lord Dare was in his carriage and rolling down the drive and Lady Chase was fretting and fussing over her baggage that Violet realized her grandmother hadn’t once referred to her by her given name.
He still didn’t know she wasn’t Hyacinth.
As far as Lord Dare knew, Violet Somerset didn’t exist.
Chapter Fourteen
“Reducing your gown to a heap of shreds won’t help a bit, Violet.”
Hyacinth reached over and tugged at Violet’s hand, but Violet clenched at the crumpled folds of blue silk in her fist until the delicate fabric, weary of her torment, ripped at the seams.
“For pity’s sake,” Hyacinth hissed under her breath. “Gather your wits, will you? Grandmother will be out any minute, and you can’t let her see you in such a state.”
They’d been about to depart for Lady Westcott’s rout when Lady Chase, fearful she’d take a chill, sent them to the carriage while she waited in the entryway for her lady’s maid to fetch her a warmer wrap.
It was a brief reprieve only—just long enough for Violet to give way to the panic clawing at her with its cold, skeletal fingers. Unless she could fall into a convincing swoon and escape this nightmare, she was about to come face to face with Lord Dare.
He’d called every single afternoon since that breathtaking, disastrous incident in his carriage, while Violet, who’d never in her life avoided confrontation, and who prided herself on her bravery…
She’d cowered in her bedchamber like a shivering rodent hiding from a merciless cat.
Five days of feigning illness. Five days confined to her bedchamber, and all for naught, because here she was, a carriage ride away from facing her doom.
Her grandmother’s patience with her fictional illness had run out the moment the invitation to Lady Westcott’s rout arrived. Lady Chase had called in a doctor who, predictably, had pronounced Violet miraculously cured. She’d been summarily rousted from her bed, hurried into the blue silk gown, and bundled into the carriage without further ado.
“Oh, Hyacinth! What am I going to do?” She’d half-deceived herself into believing her cowardliness was its own punishment, and since her misery intensified each time she refused another of Lord Dare’s calls, it seemed a sound enough theory.
It wasn’t.
Even the simple rules of cause and effect had deserted her. Logic had abandoned her to fate, and fate…well, fate was unpredictable, wasn’t she? Vindictive, even. Once fate took the reins, there was only one possible outcome.
Utter mayhem.
But fate was determined to bring Violet to justice, and now things had come to a head, indeed. Lord Dare would see her with Hyacinth, and thus the fact of Violet’s existence would be dramatically revealed. He’d fall into a fury, order her from his sight, and once her grandmother recovered from her apoplexy she’d banish Violet to her bedchamber for the remainder of her days.
Unless…
Violet grabbed Hyacinth by the shoulders, her grip frantic. “Tell Grandmother you’re ill, and can’t attend Lady Westcott’s rout tonight.”
“What? No! I won’t lie to our grandmother.”
“You’ve already lied to her! You told her I had a dreadful cold, remember?”
Hyacinth tried to shake her off. “No, you told her that. I just didn’t contradict you.”
“It’s a lie, just the same, so one more little one can’t make any difference. Please, Hyacinth. Lord Dare can’t see both of us tonight, or he’ll know I’ve deceived him.”
“Dear God, Violet, you’re coming unhinged.” Hyacinth stared at her, her own eyes widening as Violet’s fingers dug into her shoulders. “Stop that! Even if I agreed to remain at home, it only postpones the inevitable. You can’t keep on like this, Violet. You have to tell Lord Dare the truth.”
“I know. I will, I—no, don’t look at me like that, Hyacinth. I swear it this time. I will, but not tonight, at a rout with Grandmother and Lady Westcott and every gossip in London in attendance. Oh, please, Hyacinth. If you’ll only help me tonight, I promise I’ll confess the whole of it to him tomorrow when he calls.”
“But I’ve been perfectly healthy all week. Grandmother won’t believe I’m ill now.”
“She will! Of course she will. She always believes you. Just say you’ve caught my cold, and have a sudden headache, and feel faint.” She gave her sister a hopeful look. “If you could manage a swoon, that would be—”
“I am not going to feign a swoon, Violet!”
“But you will feign an illness, won’t you?” Violet clasped her hands under her chin, her eyes pleading. “Please? I vow to you if you just help me this one last time, I’ll set everything to rights tomorrow.”
