He’d been foolish to think that once her father died, Rheda would need his help to survive. Her damned smuggling operation had made it easy for her to decline his proposal.
He slammed his fist on the desk—decline him. An earl.
He clenched his teeth and gave a throaty laugh. Her smuggling would be her downfall. She would marry him or he’d see her and her brother transported to the colonies.
Soon she would not be able to overlook him. Soon he would have her right where he needed her.
Time was marching on. He was not getting any younger. His fortieth year was fast approaching, and his mother was demanding he marry.
He needed an heir. And he wanted Rheda to be the mother of his child. No other woman would do.
He closed his journal and stroked his hand lovingly over the leather. He didn’t care that she was a whore. Whores could be kept in their place. This book provided him with the power to own her soul and soon—very soon—he intended to use it.
Chapter 10
Rheda moaned into her pillow, wishing the day away. Rolling onto her back, she dragged a hand across her face and yawned. Reluctantly she pushed herself up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, blaming the humid night for her lack of sleep even though deep down she knew it was a lie.
Once on her feet she moved as if in a dream to the dresser where she poured water from the pitcher into the porcelain washbowl. Thoughts of Lord Strathmore continuously plagued her as she splashed the fresh, bracing cold water onto her skin. She tried to scrub the memory of his lips, hands, and caresses from her mind.
A few droplets of water slid down the valley between her breasts, just as she remembered his lips had done. Her body still hummed with need, remembering the soft trail of kisses and the way his mouth felt against her skin.
She shivered and kept toweling her face and chest dry. She hesitated before choosing her best day dress, denying it was for his benefit. Lady Hale deserved the effort.
The door to her room opened, and Penny, her maid, entered. “Daniel told me you were finally up.” She gave her a searching look. “Late night was it?”
“I cannot keep any secrets from you.” Penny was Jamieson’s wife. Rheda was grateful to them both. They’d stayed with her even when she had no money to pay them. With their help Tumsbury Cliff Estate had survived, if not quite blossomed. She would not be free without them.
“Miss Rhe, when will you learn, a husband can never keep anything from his wife. I make sure Jamieson tells me everything. It makes for a happy marriage.”
For one fleeting moment Rheda reflected on the fact that perhaps not all marriages were to be feared. She shook her head. No. Penny and Jamieson were not nobility. They were free to marry for love, and had. In her world marriages were made like a diplomatic alliance—breeding, wealth, estates. That was what “marriage” meant. Women were nothing more than pawns in a game of chess. The weakest piece, expendable fodder.
Rheda shooed her foolish thoughts from her head. “Then you know what happened to our stunning plan.”
“I’m not sure about stunning,” Penny scoffed as she slipped a fresh chemise over Rheda’s head. “But it appears Lord Strathmore is not as stupid as most gentlemen of the ton.”
“No.” As she opened a drawer and took out clean stockings, Rheda ignored the little thrilling flashes of memory, feeling his hands as they had massaged her deadened legs while she lay prone on the grass. Taking a seat before her mirror she rolled the thin white stockings up, remembering his strong, firm fingers stroking her legs, between her legs ...
“Are you all right?” Penny asked.
She could only nod her head.
“Stop squirming.” Penny began braiding her hair before securing it into a chignon. “Be careful. Lord Strathmore is dangerous. But my papa always told me to ‘know thine enemy. ’ When is the next boat due in from France?”
“Soon.” She shrugged. “It will be a new moon in only a few more days, when the summer skies are darkest, which makes it easier to remain hidden from the Revenue men.”
Penny paused and studied Rheda’s reflection in the mirror, a slight frown crinkling her weathered brow. “Then I would throw his lordship a ball, here at Tumsbury Cliff Manor, to welcome him to Kent. Daniel wants to reenter Society. Then let us do it on a grand scale. I’m sure Lady Hale will help with the invitations.”
Rheda returned Penny’s frown, but only for a moment. Then a smile began to tug at her lips. “And who would suspect us of smuggling in the middle of entertaining? We would throw his lordship off our scent.” She jumped up to hug her maid. “Thank you. That’s a fabulous idea.”
Penny pushed her out of her arms. “But you have to let Lady Hale propose it. Do not let Lord Strathmore know it was your idea.”
She bit her lip. “What about Daniel? A ball will take money, and he is such a miser.”
Penny walked to the door and turned before leaving. “Leave the baron to me. If he wants to fit back into Society, I will convince him a ball is needed.” Penny giggled. “I will suggest it would be a good way to introduce you to the marriage mart. That should have him agreeing right quick.”
Rheda rolled her eyes at her maid. Penny of all people knew she would never marry. “Don’t you start. Daniel thinks Lord Strathmore will call to press his suit, and for now I would like to keep it that way.”
Hiding behind the half open door Penny ventured, “You could do worse. He is rich, honorable, and exceedingly handsome. I’m sure sharing his bed would be delicious.”
“I do not have to marry a man to do that,” she replied dryly.
Penny frowned. “Your brother might have something to say about that.” And she closed the door softly behind her.
“Not if he doesn’t know,” Rheda murmured under her breath.
She glanced at her bed. Images of Lord Strathmore naked, wrapped in her sheets, sent a curl of heat low in her belly. She wanted to splash her face with cold water all over again. She could not get the image of the powerful, tempting, and vexing Lord Strathmore molding his body to hers, his hands demanding access to every one of her curves, out of her head. The thought of seeing him again made her slightly light-headed. No, it wasn’t anything to do with Lord Strathmore. It was simply that she had not eaten since an early supper last evening.
That was all she needed, something to eat. As she made her way downstairs she knew she lied. Her ache wasn’t in her stomach, it was between her thighs.
The next few hours saw her nerves stretched to the breaking point. Her body shimmered with one part excitement and two parts fear. Yes, she feared Rufus was a government agent seeking Dark Shadow. Doubtless her real gut-wrenching, cold, clammy-hands fear was her susceptibility. She dreaded testing whether she would be able to resist his powerful magnetism. Something about his lordship called to the woman in her. The woman she no longer wanted to deny.
Why did Rufus have to arrive in Deal just when her desires were surfacing? Meg told her she was a fool for holding on to her virginity as if it was a prize. Since her reputation was ruined, and she didn’t wish to marry, Meg encouraged her to learn the joy of sinful pleasure. Seeing how happy Meg was with her lover, Rheda was tempted. Even more so, since she’d tasted Lord Strathmore’s skills.
Rheda hadn’t decided who would be her choice to introduce her into womanhood. A man who did not know her, a man passing through Deal would have been ideal. Unfortunately, now she couldn’t imagine anyone other than Lord Strathmore. All other men of her acquaintance paled into invisibility next to him.
She batted away this maddening realization like a tiresome bee.
Just then, Jamieson entered. “The enemy’s carriage is coming up the driveway.”
She tsked. “It is Lady Hale as well. You had best go and get ready to show them in. Lord Strathmore should have Caesar with him. He has promised me the use of his stallion to service my mares.”
“In return for what?” Jamieson bristled with impatience. “I wish Master Daniel was here.
I do not trust his lordship.”
Her smile faltered. “There is no need to worry Daniel just yet. We are not even sure what his lordship wants.”
Jamieson snorted. “I know what he’s wanting.”
Rheda felt her cheeks heating. “Don’t be ridiculous. He has Lady Umbridge for that. Besides, I am not the sort of woman he would dally with. He might find himself married.”
Jamieson glared. “A rakehell is not known for respecting boundaries. Why is he sniffing around your petticoats then?”
She glanced toward the door. “Daniel is not to know—you must promise me you will not tell him.”
Jamieson’s eyes narrowed. “Tell him what?”
Rheda swallowed and tried to look nonchalant. “I wasn’t completely honest last night. I bumped into Lord Strathmore a few days ago.”
Jamieson raised an eyebrow. “I know that. That is how you knew about Caesar.”
“I happened to be rolling a cask to Meg’s at the time. He seemed to be very interested in my barrel.”
Jamieson’s face paled. “Christ, this is even worse than I thought.”
Rheda smoothed her ruffled gown of sprigged muslin and checked her hair coiled at her nape. “There is no need to panic until we ascertain just what he is about.”
“And how do you intend to do that?”
She lifted her head. “By not telling Daniel for starters. You know what a hothead he has become. I need to keep our viscount busy.”
Jamieson stood for a full minute staring at her as if she had gone mad. “The baron’s not going to like it.”
She gave him her most haughty look. “The baron is not going to know. Daniel actually thinks I should let Lord Strathmore court me. It seems Daniel wants to marry me off. Let us ensure that is all Daniel thinks this interest in the viscount is.”
Jamieson turned to go and admit the visitors.
“Do I have your word on this, Jamieson?” she pressed.
“It’s dangerous. I do not trust Lord Strathmore. He’s a man, like any other man, and his head will turn just as easily as every other man’s when he’s alone with you. Be careful.” And he left Rheda to ponder on his words.
She tried to gather her composure as she tidied away her correspondence and locked her writing drawer. No one would think to look in a woman’s writing desk for evidence of smuggling.
She moved to perch on the chaise. Her nerves were wound so tight she wondered if they would snap with a musical twang. She managed to take one deep calming breath before Jamieson announced, “Lady Hale and Lord Strathmore.”
The scathing emphasis on Lord Strathmore’s name earned Jamieson a quizzing look from Lady Hale, as Rheda rose to greet her.
“Rheda my dear ... ,” Lady Hale said as she accepted Rheda’s kiss on her cheeks. “I am relieved to see you looking so well, but it is a shame you couldn’t attend our dinner last night. Lord Strathmore was devastated at your absence.”
She lifted an eyebrow at Lord Strathmore. He simply bowed over her hand. “Your presence was sorely missed, Miss Kerrich.”
She withdrew her fingers before he could feel the slight tremble in her hands. Gone was the dashing pirate of the previous evening.
Today he was dressed with the casual elegance of a country lord at his leisure. His morning coat, a rich shade of burgundy, was worn over a single-breasted silk waistcoat with a high standing collar and fawn twill trousers. The effect was decidedly unsettling.
“Is Christopher not with you?” she asked. Rufus’s smile diminished.
“No, he had urgent business at the last minute. He sends his fondest regards,” Lady Hale added.
“Never mind, I will simply have to devote myself to Lord Strathmore.” She noted his lordship’s surprised look. No doubt he was trying to decide what she was up to. “I hope I have not taken you away from more important matters. I am quite recovered, Lady Hale. There was no need to trouble yourselves.”
Staring at Lord Strathmore, she took two steps back and offered her visitors a seat. Rufus waited until Lady Hale was comfortable before he took the settee across from her. His large frame filled the piece of furniture.
He slid his long legs out in front of him and crossed one booted foot over the other, as if he was quite at home. One hand rose to tug at his cuffs.
Her words rushed out in fierce volley. “Where is your friend, Lord Worthington? He would have been welcome to join us.”
Lord Strathmore’s eyebrows knitted together.
Lady Hale answered. “The Marquis of Worthington has taken Lady Umbridge to see Jacob’s Point. I did not know you’d had the pleasure of meeting Stephen.”
Rheda sent a panicked look toward Rufus.
“Lady Kerrich gave us directions the day Lord Worthington and I arrived,” Rufus said, coming to her aid, another lie. She flushed. Damn, she had almost given the game away.
“Oh, had I known I would have invited the marquis as well. You should have told me, Lord Strathmore.”
“Please call me Rufus, ladies. I am quite certain we are past formalities.”
“Charming. And you must call me Helen. Both of you. Lady Hale makes me feel older than my numerous years.”
“Nonsense, you still look like a young woman, Helen.”
“Isn’t he the most wicked flatterer, Rheda?”
“So I am learning, Helen.”
He slid Rheda a disarming smile. “Miss Kerrich, you do look a little pale. Did you not sleep well?”
She held herself stiffly. She was not about to invite any familiarity by letting him call her by her first name. “I slept well, Lord Strathmore. I trust you rested peacefully.”
“Rufus,” he taunted softly. “Well enough. I always do after a night of pleasant discourse.” And he bestowed a winning smile on Lady Hale. Helen turned a girlish shade of pink, matching the roses in the vase on Rheda’s writing table in the corner of the room directly behind Lord Strathmore.
“Rufus, perhaps Rheda would feel revived with some fresh air.”
“Excellent idea. I have brought Caesar with me. Shall we see if he is in the mood to play?” His mocking gaze traveled over her body. “I hear you are after some servicing ...” He paused before adding, “Your horses, that is. They were the topic of discussion last night. Perhaps I could see them?”
Gooseflesh rose on her arms. She did not want to be alone with him. He would ask her too many questions. She was not ready; her body was far too aware of him.
“We have not had any refreshments yet. I am sure Lady Hale would like some tea.”
Rheda sank farther back in her chair, hoping it would swallow her and she would never have to get up. Folding her hands nervously in her lap, she watched for his next move, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Do not wait for me, dear girl. When a handsome man asks for a stroll on a sunny day, a young woman should accept with relish.”
Rheda felt her face begin to heat. “I will ring for my maid; she can chaperone us.”
“Nonsense, you do not need a chaperone. I trust Lord Strathmore implicitly. He is a fine gentleman.” Lady Hale aimed a frigid stare in his direction. “Besides, your two mothers were my best friends. Rufus knows the penalty I would extract for any inappropriate behavior, do you not, my boy?”
Rufus laughed, relaxing the tension in the room. “I shall consider myself duly warned.” He offered Rheda his arm. “Shall we?”
She took his outstretched arm. Why did his simple nearness affect her so? It wasn’t merely that he was handsome. She’d always considered herself immune to a handsome face. She was hard pressed to explain the deplorable effect that Rufus Knight, Lord Strathmore, had on her.
Conscious of Lady Hale’s eyes on her she said, “I will show you to the stables. I might as well instruct Jamieson to put Caesar to work while you are here.”
More likely it was the threat he posed. She kept looking straight ahead, ignoring the disturbing presence beside her. Whatever his attributes, they made her absurdly breathless and agitated
.
As they made their way in silence across to the stable block, her excitement grew—Caesar. Today her dream began in earnest. No one could understand her driving need to implement her plan. It spelled the first step in her independence.
She was startled by Strathmore’s smooth velvet voice. “Having your own horse stud means much to you, does it not?”
If she were honest with herself, she would admit it meant everything. Rheda gave a low laugh, which helped staunch the ache in her throat at the poignant memories she was trying to hold at bay.
This moment signaled the end of her constant and denigrating dependence on men. She would never accept her mother’s life of servitude to a man. A piece of property to be bartered, a breeder, only taken out to either show off, or worse, to falsely charm so that her father could have his way.
She swallowed her disturbing memories. It was becoming extremely hard to bear that Daniel was beginning to think like most men.
She straightened her spine. She would rather go and live with Meg in her small cottage than be forced to marry, to endure as her mother had. She would soon have enough money to buy a few acres. She would use the land and her horses to make her own way in the world. Besides, she could always continue to use Dark Shadow. She did not really want to, but the alternative, the thought of relying on any man, even Daniel, was too scary.
“Does it not?” he repeated softy.
“Yes.” She finally answered his question. “My horses mean everything to me.”
“Everything or simply a means to an end? A way to build yourself some security. To ensure your life is your own.”
She started and gave him a sideways glance. Bother the man. He was too perceptive by far. What else had he gleaned in their brief encounters? “Does that surprise you?”
Invitation to Scandal Page 10
