An Affair with a Notorious Heiress

by Lorraine Heath

  It was an unsettling realization. Their association was going to be short-lived. She’d set a time for it to end. Even if he could convince her to extend it—which he was fairly certain he could do with a bit of tender persuasion—she deserved more than an illicit affair. She could find a permanent relationship in America, but here, her scandalous past limited her opportunities. Even if he overlooked the scandal of her divorce, he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t taint their children. He knew what it was to be the offspring of a woman not completely embraced by Society. Even when it appeared everyone loved his mother, he’d still heard the ugly whispered words, been the recipient of snubs. He wouldn’t wish it on his children.

  Stepping onto the terrace, he inhaled deeply the cool evening air and wandered over to a darkened corner. If Tillie were here, he’d kiss her in these shadows or perhaps they’d stroll into the gardens, eventually wandering off the path for a secluded seduction. She seduced him as ferociously as he did her. He’d missed her the night before, missed not having her in his bed. After only one night with her, how was it that a night without her had loomed like a great gaping maw of emptiness?

  He would have her tonight and tomorrow. And the night after that because he was not going to allow a single afternoon or evening to pass without escorting Gina somewhere: to the park, to a museum, to a ball. Even if for only an hour. He would meet the minimum terms so Tillie was obligated to come to him.

  Hearing the strike of a match, he looked over to see Landsdowne standing nearby lighting a cheroot, the flame illuminating features Rexton was of a mind to rearrange. He was surprised by the absolute abhorrence of the man that skittered through him. The earl had failed to appreciate what he had, and in so doing, he’d effectively ruined Tillie’s chance for happiness. At least on this side of the Atlantic. Perhaps she’d find happiness on the other. But she’d find it without him, and he was no longer certain he could find it without her.

  Landsdowne extinguished the flame with a rapid waving of his hand, inhaled deeply, and blew out a stream of smoke. “Care for one, old boy?”

  Only then did Rexton realize he’d been glaring at the man since he became alerted to his presence. “No.”

  “I see you’re still hanging on to Gina’s skirts. Without Mathilda in tow tonight.”

  “As you’re well aware, she’s no longer invited into parlors, grand salons, and dining rooms.”

  “As well a woman of her low moral character shouldn’t be. I did hear you were seen rowing with her.”

  “Your point?”

  “If you have any hope of having Gina accepted, you’d do best to keep her disgusting sister in the shadows.”

  Rexton moved swiftly, grabbing Landsdowne by the lapels and giving him a shake. The cheroot went flying. “You will cease your disparaging remarks regarding Tillie.”

  The earl’s eyes went wide. “Dear God, it’s not Gina who truly holds your attention, but the tart I married. She’s spreading her le—”

  The jab was quick and hard. He heard the snap of cartilage despite the earl’s groan. He took satisfaction in it. “Watch your words where she is concerned.”

  “She’s a cunning—”

  Another quick jab, another groan.

  “You’re not listening, Landsdowne.”

  “She’s not worthy of your devotion, Rexton. She won’t return it in kind.” His sentiments were muffled because he was holding a handkerchief to his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood.

  Rexton hadn’t earned her devotion. She was with him because she wanted his assistance. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t worthy of devotion or respect. “I have to ask myself, Landsdowne, what failings in you caused her to turn to another man, a footman for God’s sake?” No longer able to stand touching him, he shoved the earl back. Then took a step nearer. Landsdowne flinched. “My mother taught me if I had nothing good to say about a person, I should hold my tongue. Heed the advice and heed it well. Because if I hear you have directed a single unkind word in Tillie’s direction, rumors regarding your lack of . . . virility might begin making the rounds. I have enough friends and family to ensure the speculations travel very quickly. Mark my words, there won’t be a place you can appear where you won’t feel judgment. Damnation, I might just do it anyway so you have a clearer understanding of how your former wife feels.”

  “She deserves to be snubbed and gossiped about.”

  “No, Landsdowne, she does not. And I think you damned well know it.”

  “She wanted a divorce. She didn’t care about the damned scandal.”

  “And again, I must wonder why. I know you were unfaithful. But I suspect there was more to it than that. Pray, if I ever find out the specifics, that I don’t have a need to strike you again.”

  Spinning on his heel, he left Landsdowne blubbering some sort of unintelligible sounds. The man had been unfaithful. He had divorced his wife. Yet he moved about in Society with no consequence while Tillie was denied the opportunity to waltz in a crowded ballroom, to waltz in Rexton’s arms. He’d never considered the unfairness of it. He was certainly considering it now.

  Wearing her nightdress and dressing gown, sitting in a chair, Tillie looked longingly out her bedchamber window, miserably waiting for Gina’s return from the ball. She thought of Rexton waltzing with her sister, waltzing with any number of young ladies, and she longed to be the one in his arms. She imagined flirting with him in the ballroom, strolling through a shadowed garden, sneaking in a kiss behind a trellis.

  Her first Season, while she was unattached to a man or scandal, she’d enjoyed herself immensely: laughing, discussing various gentlemen’s attributes, and gossiping. She sighed. She’d never again gossip and not just because she wouldn’t be welcomed into a ballroom, but because she now understood how much it hurt and how often there was more to the story than anyone truly realized.

  A thrill shot through her as she saw the carriage pulling into the drive, illuminated by the gas lamps. Jumping to her feet, she positioned herself behind the drawn aside curtain so she could peer out without her silhouette being visible—she didn’t want to look like some child with her nose pressed to the glass of a sweet shop—and watched as Rexton climbed out through the door the footman had opened for him. His movements were so smooth, so dashing. Even something as simple as the sight of him disembarking from a conveyance caused her stomach to flutter with anticipation.

  He handed Gina down, said something which Tillie couldn’t hear. Her sister tossed her head back and laughed. She envied her the ease of her laughter and the fact she’d been fortunate enough to have the marquess elicit the sound from her. They seemed extremely comfortable in each other’s company.

  The maid followed. Tillie lost sight of them as they neared the front door. Not even a minute later, Rexton was approaching the carriage. He stopped, swept his hat from his head, and gazed up at her window. Perhaps she wasn’t as invisible as she thought or maybe he felt her watching him. Her mouth went dry as a shiver of delight raced through her because he’d taken the time to look up.

  Then he clambered aboard and the vehicle took off. She knew it wasn’t going to go far: just to the end of the drive where it would wait for her in shadows.

  Schooling her features to show none of her anticipation, she settled into her chair and opened the book that had been keeping her company or might have if her mind hadn’t wandered so many times this evening. She’d left the door to her bedchamber open wide so she wasn’t surprised when Gina passed by, stopped, and walked in.

  “Oh, you’re still up, I see.”

  Tillie set the book aside. “I can’t sleep until you’re home safe. How did your evening go?”

  “Splendid. A dozen dances with various lords. Much tittering with ladies. The Duchess of Lovingdon has taken me under her wing—no doubt at her brother’s behest. He disappeared for a bit.”

  She didn’t want to think that he might have secreted some lady away for a tryst in the garden. They had an understanding. He wouldn’t bre
ak his promise not to spend time with another woman. But then Downie had made the same promise before God, and he’d broken it easily enough. “Did he dance much?”

  She hated that she’d asked, that she sounded like a possessive wife.

  “He waltzed with me, of course. Twice. But other than that I didn’t see him circling anyone else about the ballroom.”

  “I wonder where he went then.”

  “To play cards perhaps.” Gina sat on the edge of the bed. “I think he’s secretly courting you.”

  “What a silly notion.”

  “You are the only thing we talk about.”

  Tillie wasn’t going to let on how much that pleased her. “That must have been a short conversation.”

  “On the contrary. He is unrelenting in his inquiries.”

  Tillie furrowed her brow. “What does he want to know?”

  “He asks a good deal about our life in New York.”

  “Well, then, you see he’s asking after you.”

  Gina smiled. “No. He wants to know about our residence there. If that’s where you’ll live when you return to the city. What do we do in New York? Do you go to the theater, the parks? What do you like to do for enjoyment? It always comes back to you.”

  She looked at the book in her lap, ran her finger over the spine. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

  “I think you’re going to meet him in secret once I leave you.”

  Tillie jerked her head up so quickly that she heard a little pop in her neck. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m dressed for bed.”

  “Of course. I forget one can’t change one’s clothes after midnight.”

  “Gina—”

  “It’s all right, Tillie.” Her sister slid off the bed, came toward her, and looked down on her with a serene smile. “I want you to be happy. He makes you so, doesn’t he?”

  “I do like him.” That was the most she’d admit. “However, nothing permanent can come of it.”

  “Why not?”

  She pushed herself up and began to pace. “Because I’m scandal-ridden.”

  “He obviously doesn’t care. People see the two of you together—”

  She swung around. “They see the three of us together. They know I’m acting as chaperone. I suspect many are questioning that. I’m not good for him. Not in the long run. And it doesn’t matter. That’s not what he wants.” He was clear up front. He wanted an affair only. She wanted the same. She had no desire to be tied here.

  Crossing over to her sister, she took Gina’s hands. “Don’t worry about me, sweeting. This is your Season. We need to ensure that you’re happy, that you find the right man.”

  “You’re right. I believe a couple of gents are going to call on me tomorrow. I’ll want you there to observe, to share your insights.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Gina yawned. “Now I must be abed. It wouldn’t do at all for me to nod off while they’re trying to woo me.”

  “Sleep well.”

  Gina gave her a saucy smile, a twinkle in her eyes. “You, too.”

  As her sister wandered out, Tillie settled back into the chair, picked up her book, and pretended to be reading. What she really wanted to do was dash out of the residence and to the waiting carriage, the waiting man. Although, he might not still be there. He might have given up on her ever appearing. But she had to give Gina time to retire before slipping out of the residence. Even if her sister suspected the truth, Tillie had no plans to confirm it. Still it was difficult to wait when she wanted to be with him so badly. The extent to which she was drawn to him was unnerving. So she forced herself to wait a full half hour simply to prove she could.

  Then she grabbed her cloak, drew it about her, and stepped into the hallway. All was quiet. Gina was no doubt asleep by now. Tillie made a mad dash down the stairs and out the door. On slippered feet, she raced along the drive—

  Her progress was abruptly stopped as an arm snaked around her and brought her up against a hard body. Her squeal was cut off as a warm, seductive mouth blanketed hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she melted against Rexton, grateful she hadn’t needed to go a minute longer without being pressed against him, surrounded by his fragrance, enjoying his taste, his enthusiasm, his nearness.

  Drawing back, she held his gaze. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wasn’t going to have you traipsing in the dark to my carriage.” His gaze dipped down. “What the devil are you wearing?”

  “My nightclothes. I assumed we’d be going straight to bed once we arrived at your residence.”

  He gave her a slow, wicked grin. “We are now.”

  From her window, Gina watched as Tillie was snatched up by Rexton. She felt guilty not looking away as the marquess kissed her sister. Their bodies practically melded into one. Then they were dashing down the drive, no doubt to his waiting carriage.

  For a tryst.

  She sighed. While she was glad the marquess had taken a shine to her sister, this was not the outcome she’d hoped for. She’d hoped Rexton would see Tillie accepted again. Her sister deserved better than an affair. She deserved marriage.

  She obviously wasn’t going to find it here. Gina was going to have to redouble her efforts to get herself wedded so Tillie could return to New York where hopefully she’d find a man who recognized her worth.

  Chapter 16

  The following morning, Tillie felt the nudge on her shoulder and squinted up at her maid.

  “It’s time, my lady.”

  She’d asked to be awakened for luncheon. Stretching languorously, she admitted that last night her body had been well and truly used—in the most glorious of manners. Dear God, but Rexton was a man of such talents that he would make a fortune if he were a male tart. She furrowed her brow. Was there a name for a man who sold his services? Did men sell their services? Perhaps she’d ask him. He no doubt knew. He seemed to know all manner of wicked things.

  When she was prepared for the day in a simple navy frock that buttoned to her throat and her wrists as befitting one serving as chaperone, she headed down to the dining room. Gina was already there. She glanced up from her plate.

  “Well, you slept rather late.”

  “I was in need of some additional rest after waiting up for you last night.” After filling her plate at the sideboard, she took her seat.

  “Something arrived for you,” Gina said rather mysteriously.

  “What would that be?”

  “I don’t know. It’s all wrapped up. Griggs placed it on your desk. I was tempted to take a peek but I refrained.”

  “Do we know who it’s from?”

  Gina shook her head. “No, no marking whatsoever. Griggs said the gent who delivered it wasn’t wearing livery so no clues there. Perhaps you’ve a secret admirer. Or not so secret.”

  “Honestly, Gina, you’re reading too much into our outings with Rexton.”

  “Would you marry him if you could?”

  She shook her head. “I’m a failure at marriage. All of London will tell you so.”

  “Does Rexton believe that?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m going back to New York.”

  “I suppose then that I need to ensure my husband is open to traveling across the ocean blue.”

  “Indeed.”

  Tillie didn’t know if she’d ever eaten so quickly. She was anxious to discover what the package contained. It seemed Gina was equally anxious as she kept skipping ahead down the hallway, then stopping and giving an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Hurry!”

  “It’s not going anywhere.”

  It was larger than she expected. Perhaps a foot tall, a foot wide. She untied the string. The paper fell away. Tentatively she lifted the lid from the box, gasped in surprise, and lifted out a stone sprite with a mischievous grin, legs crossed beneath her, holding a folded note in her lap. Setting the statuette aside, she read the scrap of paper.

  What is a whimsical garden without a bit of faerie?

  Smiling br
ightly, she clutched the parchment to her chest.

  “Is it from Rexton?” Gina asked.

  “It doesn’t say.”

  Gina jabbed at her arm. “But it is, isn’t it? Otherwise you wouldn’t look so besotted by a piece of stone.”

  “I’m not besotted and it’s not just a piece of stone. It’s for my garden.”

  “Jewelry would have been better.”

  No, it wouldn’t have and he knew that. He’d accurately determined what would bring her joy. He didn’t find her little garden demeaning or a ridiculous waste of her time as Downie had. Rexton never belittled her, never made her feel that she didn’t measure up.

  Tillie changed into her gardening clothes and took the sprite into her garden to make a space for it among her flowers. She wanted it positioned so it was clearly visible but also partially hidden behind the blossoms, as though shy, not meant to be seen.

  Kneeling, she moved it a little to the right, a tad back, a smidgen forward, searching for that perfect placement—

  “Mathilda.”

  With a start, she glanced up at the man towering over her. He removed his hat, the sunlight hit him, and she gasped. “My God, Downie, what the devil happened to your face?”

  She shoved herself to her feet, reached out, stopped herself just shy of touching his grossly misshaped nose and swollen eye. He’d never been one for offering or receiving comfort.

  “Seems you have a champion,” he said quietly.

  Rexton. She was at once thrilled and appalled by the notion that he’d inflicted this damage. Unlike the gent at the club, Downie hadn’t attacked her. “What did you do to deserve his wrath?”