He arrived promptly at two. He’d never been a slacker in any regard. Landsdowne Court was impressive from the outside, even more so from the inside with its cavernous entryway and stairs branching out on two sides leading to the upper floors. He wasn’t certain how Lady Landsdowne had wrested the residence—which had been in the earl’s family for at least a century—away from her husband, but her residing within these walls had resulted in another insult for which Society wouldn’t forgive her.
Extending his card to the butler, he was surprised by the man’s youth. “The Marquess of Rexton calling upon Miss Hammersley.”
“I’ll inform the countess. Allow me to situate you in the parlor.”
The parlor was deep purple walls and furniture in various shades of white. He’d never realized white came in an assortment. Some of it was so pristine as to hurt the eyes, like snow captured in sunlight, some less so, more the ivory of tusks.
Rexton wandered over to the shelves beside the fireplace. Only half contained books. The others held wood, granite, and marble carvings of horses in various stances: leaping, trotting, prancing. Paintings of horses dotted the walls, a huge one hung over the fireplace. Obviously the room reflected the earl’s love of horses. It must have pricked his pride to have had to leave all this behind.
Hearing the rapid patter of heels, he turned, completely unprepared for the hard kick his gut took at the sight of the woman striding toward him with such regal and uncompromising bearing. She held herself rigid and tall, with dignity and a daring that issued a challenge: mock me, mess with me, at your own peril. Nothing about her appeared youthful, yet he doubted she’d yet seen a quarter of a century.
She stopped in front of him, her blue eyes—shrewd, calculating, suspicious—slowly raking over him, taking his measure. Much to his annoyance, he found himself straightening his spine a tad, when he’d thought it was as straight as a poker. With hair as black as midnight, she in no way resembled her sister. This woman was no innocent. She didn’t harbor dreams of love and romance. Poetry interested her not in the least. Pixie dust wasn’t sprinkled about her. She was all strength and vinegar. She wouldn’t break in his bed. He’d wager if anyone were vulnerable there, it would be he. She communicated quite effectively with her narrowed gaze that she would give no quarter.
“Good afternoon, Lord Rexton. I’m Lady Landsdowne. I don’t believe we’ve ever been properly introduced.”
No, they hadn’t. He couldn’t recall ever laying eyes on her. By the time he was occasionally making the social rounds she was persona non grata. “It’s a pleasure.”
Her smile, small and tight, indicated she knew he was lying. The décolletage of her burgundy frock was low enough to modestly hint at the swell of her bosom, only enough pale skin revealed to make a man’s mouth water and his imagination to take flight, but the rest of her was covered as primly as a schoolmistress.
“It seems Gina slept in. She’s preparing herself now. I’m afraid she might be a while. I’d offer to have the maid bring in tea but you strike me as being a whisky man.” She walked over to a table sporting several decanters and winged a finely arched raven-black eyebrow at him over her shoulder.
He didn’t usually indulge this early in the day, but he’d welcome the heat of whisky at his throat to distract him from the other heated areas of his body. “Yes, please.”
To his surprise, she poured whisky into two glasses. She handed him one, took the other, raised it slightly. “Cheers.”
She took a sip and licked her lips in a manner that caused his gut to tighten, before walking over to the settee where she gracefully lowered herself onto a cushion. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
He selected the chair nearest to her, studied her, and couldn’t help thinking how quickly Landsdowne must have fallen for her. She was poised, graceful, and beautiful. The man would have preened with her on his arm. That she then betrayed him and her vows was beyond the pale. Little wonder people looked at her and expected the same of her sister. This woman commanded the room; she could not be without influence, and her sister was her vulnerable pupil. What lessons she must have taught her. And that tutoring was going to make his task all the more challenging.
“I’m actually rather glad we have this opportunity to speak privately,” she said, brazenly holding his gaze. She might be American but her accent was refined—not the harsh brusqueness of her uncle’s but neither was it quite British. “You may be aware that our father passed a little over a year ago, our mother some years before that. Gina’s inheritance has been placed in a trust to be handed over to her when she marries or reaches the age of five and twenty. In either case, she will bring to her marriage a small fortune, all that was left to her, and the wrong sort of man could take advantage of that, take it as his own, leave her with naught.”
“I have no need of a small fortune,” he stated succinctly, feeling a need to defend himself even though he could care less about any girl’s dowry. Based upon what he knew of her family’s business, she was being modest concerning the size of the fortune she and her sister had inherited. “Reputation, not coin, is the currency by which I will measure the value of the woman I intend to take to wife.”
Although she blanched, to her credit, she continued to hold his gaze. “While you may claim money has no bearing, it still needs to be emphasized that much is at stake here. I’m quite aware you come with a respected title, position, and influence. However, my lord, if you seek to marry my dear sister, you must also come with your heart. You must not only convince her that you love her but you must convince me as well. I will not allow Gina to spend so much as an hour in a loveless marriage.”
He had absolutely no interest in marrying the girl. Still, Lady Landsdowne’s words irked. How dare she judge him or his motives when she knew him not at all. “I am quite the catch, my lady. Miss Hammersley would be damned lucky to have me as a husband.”
“Modest as well, I see.”
“Merely speaking the truth. I, on the other hand, need reassurances that she will not follow her sister’s path to ruination and scandal.”
Lady Landsdowne’s chin came up and he suspected she had an urge to toss in his face what remained of her whisky. “If she marries a man who loves her, a man she loves, I believe that will be assured.”
“You didn’t marry for love?”
“I don’t see that my feelings regarding Landsdowne are really any of your concern. However, I will admit my mother wanted me to have a title she could flaunt in front of her New York enemies. I was raised to obey my mother in all things. Landsdowne wanted a dowry. I provided that. A title never interested me.”
“Yet you insist upon being addressed by yours.” Another offense against the aristocracy for which she would never be forgiven, to have the title tainted permanently by her transgressions. Because of the embarrassment she had caused, Landsdowne had asked the divorce court to strip her of the title she’d gained through marriage to him. They’d ruled in his favor. She had appealed to a higher court—and won. Appalled by her cheek, people justifiably shunned her.
“I paid for the privilege of it. Quite handsomely since Downie took possession of my entire dowry. Besides, I knew it would irritate the devil out of him.”
Her secretive smile made him want to grin but he refrained. His family wasn’t without scandal but she seemed to relish it. He glanced around. “You seem to be doing quite well for yourself now.”
“My father was not a man to fritter away what he acquired through blood, sweat, and tears. His fortune was vast. Certainly I shall never do without and I want to ensure Gina does not go without either, which is the reason it is even more imperative to weed out all fortune hunters.”
He found it rather crass to be discussing money matters right out of the gate as though he was possessed of greedy fingers. Her opinion of him seemed to be as low as his of her. Her regard toward him was not deserved, and left a rancid taste in his mouth. “I was under the impression your uncle was responsible
for her.”
“He has the means to introduce her into Society which I do not. He and I are in agreement, however, that when it comes to her suitors, my opinion alone matters. He acts when called upon but in truth he has very little interest in either of us.”
So the man was striving to get this duty out of the way. Rexton couldn’t fault him when he, himself, found balls and the social games that went along with them rather tedious.
“I am not naïve, my lord. I realize my divorce created quite the scandal, and I do not wish for Gina to pay the price. No doubt I should have waited until she was properly situated.” She glanced away then, and he wondered what she was thinking. She brought her gaze back to bear on him. “But I didn’t. Selfish on my part. But there you have it. I hadn’t really thought things through—”
“I am given to understand you kissed a footman in front of guests.” He couldn’t believe he’d said it. To her face. His mother would be appalled.
Lady Landsdowne simply smiled, without joy but with triumph. “Yes. He now serves as my butler.”
The one who had opened the door to him? The servant wasn’t particularly handsome. Rexton found himself wondering at the size of the man’s cock for surely he had to have offered her something worth her ruination. Or perhaps she simply enjoyed a bit of the rough. She wouldn’t be the first well-placed woman to be attracted to those of the lower class. Still, he recognized he was behaving as though he came from the gutter. “My apologies. My words were uncalled for.”
She took another sip of her whisky. “No apologies needed. I know I’m an object of curiosity and shame. However, I do not want my choices reflected upon my sister. I must know your intentions regarding her are honorable. To be quite honest”—she finished off her whisky, set her glass aside, and captured his gaze as though she intended to tame it—“I will kill any man who causes her any sort of hurt, no matter how mild or seemingly insignificant. I do not want her to shed so much as a single tear because of a man’s heartless behavior.”
Had she shed tears? He couldn’t quite envision it. She was ice surrounded by cold steel.
“Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
The sharpness to her words, the challenge glistening in her sapphire eyes spoke loudly that she would indeed slay him if he did not rise to the occasion and meet her standards. He didn’t particularly like the way his heart sped up and his chest tightened. He didn’t like that he wondered what she would do if he got up, crossed over to her, caged her between his arms, and claimed her mouth. Good Lord, she was so much more appealing than the sister. She was spit and fire and unbreakable. Nothing about her was innocent. Something in her past, possibly her marriage, had honed her to a fine edge. He was fascinated, he was intrigued, he was—
“Apologies for keeping you waiting, my lord.” Miss Hammersley fairly skipped into the room and suddenly she seemed more a child than ever. He could see her frolicking through fields of daisies. He doubted Lady Landsdowne had ever frolicked.
He shot to his feet and fought to keep his attention on Miss Hammersley rather than the woman he could see out of the corner of his eye. The contrast between the two was incredible. Woman . . . girl. Worldly . . . innocent. Tart . . . sweet.
Damnation if he didn’t prefer tart. But tart wouldn’t get him the stud. “You look lovely, my dear.”
She smiled brightly, her eyes twinkling with joy. His clothing suddenly felt tight, and he had a need to loosen his neck cloth before it strangled him.
“Your delay served us well,” Lady Landsdowne said gently, “as it gave us the opportunity to get acquainted.”
Tiny pleats appeared in the girl’s delicate brow. “How is that you were not acquainted before? I’d have thought you of a similar age.”
“During my youth I traveled extensively,” Rexton said. “I didn’t spend much time in London if I could help it.” He decided not to mention he had no interest in the social scene and avoided it whenever possible.
She brightened once more. “How marvelous for you. I should like to see more of the world, I think. Will you take your wife traveling?”
“If it is her desire. But I must procure her first, and rituals must be followed.” He set down his glass and walked toward her. “Miss Hammersley, my carriage awaits.”
He offered his arm. Her face fell. “We have a bit of a problem there. My maid has taken a megrim and I’ve ordered her to bed.” She looked past him. “Tillie, would you be so kind as to serve as chaperone?”
Tillie? An image of her, sweet and innocent, young and happy, indeed frolicking through meadows of daisies—before Landsdowne had taken her to wife—flashed through his mind. He didn’t like it, didn’t like it one bit. He glanced back in time to see the countess’s calculating gaze travel the length of him. Christ, he had the urge to spread his feathers like a blasted peacock.
“I’d be delighted. It will give me the opportunity to get to know the marquess better and get a sense of his true feelings toward you.”
“He has no feelings yet,” Miss Hammersley assured her. “We met only last night.”
“Oh, I’m certain he’s feeling something,” the witch said with a smirk as she walked past him.
He was struck by the realization she smelled of lavender and orchids. She was also correct. He was feeling something—something that could lead to no good.
Chapter 2
Mathilda Paget, Countess of Landsdowne, couldn’t deny that the marquess had excellent taste in horses. The two chestnut bays pulling the gleaming black open carriage obviously came from good stock. It had taken everything within her not to approach them and give them an affectionate pat when she first spied them. Just as now, it was with great difficulty she didn’t reach across to Rexton, sitting on the seat opposite her sister and herself, to pat that muscular thigh of his outlined so provocatively by his taut breeches.
Damn if the man wasn’t gorgeous with his golden curling locks and his blue eyes the shade of a winter sky promising snow and the need for warm fires. Her heart tripped over itself at the thought of this sensual and sexual man taking her sister to bed. With his heated gaze, he appeared far too wise, too experienced, too knowledgeable in the ways of women. He sat there like some large predatory tiger, considering how tasty a morsel his prey might be. She couldn’t imagine him ordering a woman to simply lie still and endure what was to come. Nor could she imagine a woman being able to remain unaffected if he pressed those firm, full lips against her skin.
Something flickered in his heated gaze, and she was left with the uncomfortable sensation that he was able to read her thoughts, that he knew the errant path they traveled. Her cheeks warmed, and she cursed inwardly, jerking her gaze to the passing buildings as they made their way to the park. What was wrong with her to have such lurid images flashing through her mind? She wanted to spare Gina the shame of the marriage bed, even as she found her own skin tightening and something closely resembling desire coursing through her. She fully understood how any woman might fall at this one’s feet. Or at least she assumed they might. His exploits certainly weren’t reported on in the gossip sheets, so he was no doubt discreet in his affairs, unlike her previous husband. If Downie had been more circumspect, perhaps Tillie wouldn’t have been required to stage an encounter that would force him, along with his obnoxious pride, to divorce her.
“You must have been a child when you married.”
The deep voice shimmered through her, her reaction wrong on so many levels. Tilting up her chin, she met Rexton’s gaze, surprised to see true curiosity reflected there. “I married on the day I turned nineteen.”
“You can’t have been married very long.”
“Long enough to lose any semblance of youth.” Three years. The process of obtaining a divorce had been a long, arduous, tortuous affair. Before its completion a little over nine months ago she had marked her twenty-fifth year. Reaching for her sister’s hand, she squeezed it. “I know the trials and tribulations of marriage, which is the reason I will not
let anyone who is undeserving of Gina marry her.”
“And you’ve already deemed me underserving.”
To her utter mortification, she had. This man would not do for her sister, would not do at all. He was far too mature, too knowing. She wasn’t going to allow a man of such boldness and daring to have Gina. “To be quite honest, my lord, she is so innocent that I do think a less worldly man might serve her better.”
“And you judge me worldly?”
“Are you not?”
A corner of his mouth hitched up slightly. “I’ve never had a woman complain.”
She knew his thoughts were traveling the same path as hers—toward the bedchamber. It was all men really wanted once they had the dowry. Downie hadn’t been able to get her out of her clothes fast enough. But then once he’d had her, he grew bored. Another truth she’d learned about men: they easily wearied of their bedmates. For them it was the lure of the conquest, but they had no desire to hold for long that which they had obtained. Greener pastures and all that.
Gina deserved a man who would stay on his side of the fence. Surely a deep and profound love could keep him there. She forced herself to hold Rexton’s gaze. “You’re not doing much to convince me that you and my sister would suit.”
“It might be helpful if you shared with me the requirements you seek.”
“So you can pretend to possess them?”
He held out his arms as though surrendering. “When it comes to the ladies, I have no reason to pretend. I have always found honesty in relationships to serve me well.”
“Then you should have no fear of being found lacking while courting Gina.”
He chuckled low, provocatively. “Being found lacking has never been a fear.”
Before she could stop it, her gaze dipped to his lap, lower. She jerked her attention back to the passing scenery but not before she saw his satisfied smirk. No, he wouldn’t do at all for Gina. Tillie would always see innuendo in his eyes, read it in his face, hear it in his voice. What did it matter? As soon as Gina was wedded, she suspected she’d never see him again.
An Affair with a Notorious Heiress Page 2
