An Affair with a Notorious Heiress

by Lorraine Heath

  “You think I deserved it?”

  “I don’t believe he’s one to go about willy-nilly hitting fellows.”

  He looked down at his shoes as though striving to determine if they needed to be polished. “I might have said something untoward regarding you.” He lifted his gaze. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him looking guilty or remorseful. He did so now. “Might we walk for a bit?”

  They’d walked often before they were married. Not once during. Once the vows were exchanged, so much between them changed. “Yes, of course.”

  He didn’t offer his arm. She hadn’t expected him to. So much of their relationship had been based on obligation rather than desire. She hadn’t realized it would be so until after she married him.

  “I miss the gardens,” he said wistfully.

  “They’re my favorite part of the residence,” she admitted.

  “I never appreciated you laboring in them.”

  “It’s not really laboring, Downie, when it brings me such peace and joy.” Digging in the earth calmed her, arranging her plants brought ease. They never judged, never found fault with her.

  “Are you involved with him?”

  Interesting that since his arrival he’d avoided calling Rexton by name. “That’s not really any of your concern.”

  “He can’t offer you marriage you know. Those of our station do not wed divorced women.”

  He emphasized the word as though her condition were entirely her own doing. “Having been married to an Englishman, I assure you I have no interest in being married to another. It was a remarkably cold and lonely existence.”

  He nodded. “I was wrong to marry you, but I needed the funds.”

  “I’m well aware. Perhaps my dowry will allow you to marry for love next time.” Since apparently the state of divorce didn’t attach itself to men quite as unflatteringly.

  With a long slow sigh, he shook his head. “The woman I love is married to another.”

  She was taken aback by the knowledge that he actually loved someone other than himself. “Is she the one you met at the Nightingale or are you unfaithful to her as well?” He’d never provided any details on the woman. Only admitted to the affair when she confronted him.

  He stopped and faced her. “It’s the only way she’ll come to me. She fears if we meet elsewhere, we will be spotted, she will be recognized. The Nightingale makes me feel as though what we have is . . . cheap. She has three children. I look at them and wonder if any of them might be mine.”

  He averted his gaze, looked up into the trees. For the briefest of moments, she thought she saw a welling of tears in the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat.

  “If you’re asking me to forgive you, I can’t,” she said softly. “I deserved better. I deserved your fidelity.”

  Another clearing of his throat, a straightening of his shoulders before turning back to her and giving her his full attention. He looked at her squarely, more squarely than he’d ever done when they were married. “You did. I was a cad. Weak. Caring only for my own happiness—reaching for it and yet it was always beyond my grasp. I suspect if I had devoted myself to you that I might have come to love you in time.”

  If he thought he was making her feel better, he was gravely mistaken. She had an urge to make his right eye match his left.

  “I don’t suppose you want to give it another go.”

  Her unexpected bark of laughter was loud and harsh. Abrupt and forceful enough to cause an ache in her chest. “No. Dear God, no.”

  “I didn’t think so but I thought nothing lost in asking.”

  Except maybe a bit of his pride. She rather hoped so. Not very charitable of her, but he had managed through his selfishness to ruin her life.

  “Since the discovery of you with the footman I’ve not spoken very highly of you,” he said. “That will cease. You’re not deserving of it.”

  “Why the change of heart?”

  “Rexton questioned why you might turn to another man. I am forced to admit that I might have played a role in your misbehavior. I do wish, however, that you had traded up.”

  “At the time, I rather felt that I had.”

  He blanched. “I deserved that cutting remark, I suppose.”

  “You broke my heart, Downie. Yes, my mother wanted me to marry someone titled, but don’t you think if that was what mattered to me, I’d have gone with a duke?”

  Another sigh, another study of his shoes. Finally, he met her gaze again. “Should our paths cross again in a social situation, rest assured that I shall be cordial.”

  “I shall reciprocate.” Although she couldn’t imagine any social situation where they’d cross paths.

  “Very good.” He settled his hat on his head. “Good day to you, Mathilda.”

  He’d taken only three steps from her before she called out, “Downie?”

  He faced her.

  She damned her inability to be cruel. “I only ever kissed the footman.”

  He blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, blinked again. “You didn’t deny having an affair.”

  “I wanted a divorce more than I wanted a sterling reputation.” She’d been wilting like flowers left without water.

  He chuckled low. “Well played, Mathilda. I’m afraid, though, m’dear that I won’t be striving to set that record straight. It might make me appear more the fool.”

  With that, he walked away. She didn’t need him to set the record straight. She was divorced. Nothing was going to change that or the shame that went with it.

  Chapter 17

  A week later, without thought, Tillie periodically turned the pages in the book she held in her lap, striving to give the impression that she was lost in the world the author created when in fact she was very much aware of every breath, sigh, and clink of teacup hitting saucer that occurred within the parlor where she sat a discreet distance away from Gina and her gentleman caller—the Earl of Somerdale.

  He’d been unable to contribute much to Gina’s treatise regarding Mr. Darcy’s true identity. Apparently, Somerdale was vaguely familiar with Jane Austen—enough to know she was in fact a female author—but confessed to not being a devotee of books. He preferred activities that pushed the limits of the body—such as rowing, riding, and dancing. With him, Gina would no doubt have an active life, but Tillie couldn’t imagine a duller sort than a man who did not exercise the mind with reading.

  Still, the gent seemed somewhat devoted to Gina, describing his family’s estate as though he would one day share it with her. Gina seemed happy enough to be in his company, smiling broadly and never taking her gaze from him.

  It was odd. Tillie had known from the beginning that Rexton wasn’t right for Gina. She felt the same way about Somerdale but she was having a devil of a time identifying exactly why she didn’t feel he suited. Perhaps the fault rested more with her, and her desire that Gina not settle on anyone too soon, for once her sister was situated, Tillie’s time with Rexton would come to an end. And she was enjoying him far more than she should.

  Hearing the faint knocking echoing through the foyer, she fought to calm her accelerating heart. It could be another caller for Gina, but when the man strode into the parlor without being announced, she fairly leaped to her feet with gladness, then squelched her smile because it was intolerable to be so happy to see Rexton. Besides, Somerdale needed to be convinced that the marquess was here for Gina. To reveal otherwise, could undermine their plans.

  Apparently Somerdale was convinced as he, too, jumped to his feet, evidently forgetting that he’d been successfully balancing a teacup and saucer on his thigh because both went flying. “My lord.” He glanced down, glanced up, looked at Gina, turned to the marquess, guilt washing over his features as though he’d been caught pilfering valuable family jewels. “My calling on Miss Hammersley is quite innocent, I assure you. I’m not attempting to steal her away—”

  “It’s quite all right, Somerdale,” Rexton said. “I’ve not yet stated my intentions nor asked for
her hand. Besides I appreciate competition.”

  Somerdale visibly relaxed. “I shall strive to offer some that is worthy of you.” He turned to Gina. “I must be off.”

  “Must you?” Gina asked. “I do wish you wouldn’t allow Lord Rexton to chase you away.”

  “Oh, it isn’t that . . .”

  Although Tillie suspected it was exactly that, and in her mind, it made him unsuitable for Gina.

  “I’d dearly love for you to take me on a stroll through the park,” Gina said, boldly, batting her eyelashes at him. “My sister and Lord Rexton could serve as chaperones.”

  “I very much doubt—”

  “Splendid notion,” Rexton said before the earl could finish. “Perhaps you can teach me a thing or two about courtship, Somerdale.”

  Tillie knew it was impossible, but if it weren’t, she was fairly certain Somerdale’s chin would have touched the carpet, his mouth was so agape.

  “To be honest, my lord, I would like to take the lady to the park.”

  “Then let’s be on our way, shall we?” Rexton bowed slightly toward her. “If you don’t mind accompanying me, Lady Landsdowne?”

  “I was beginning to wonder if I ever was going to be included in this conversation and my opinion sought on the ridiculous notion of you allowing Somerdale to escort a lady in whom you’ve been showing interest.”

  “Oh, Tillie, don’t be a spoilsport. I’d love to have a bit more time with Lord Somerdale.” Her sister reached out and patted the mentioned man’s arm. He preened. “Then I’ll have a spot of tea with Lord Rexton. Until I make a decision, I don’t see why I can’t have more than one swain. Besides, you could do with a bit of sun. You’re looking far too pale these days. I’ll snag our parasols, shall I?”

  She considered objecting, but in the end, decided it couldn’t hurt for Gina to be seen with two gentlemen in tow, even if the second was walking beside Tillie while she followed her sister and Somerdale. They’d ridden to the park in Rexton’s open carriage, so Tillie suspected he had planned to bring them to the park all along, but for a ride, not a walk.

  “I don’t know why we didn’t remain in your carriage,” she muttered.

  “My presence intimidates Somerdale.”

  She could see that, suspected his presence intimidated everyone.

  “Give me your arm,” Rexton said quietly.

  She didn’t. She skewed her face into a moue of displeasure. “You could at least show a measure of jealousy because a man is infringing upon your interests.”

  “But he’s not.”

  “He should think he is.”

  “I don’t want to overplay my hand. If he believes I’ve staked a claim, he’s going to scurry away.” Reaching down, he closed his fingers around her wrist.

  She tugged. His hold tightened.

  “Don’t make a scene,” he ordered. “It will do harm to Gina’s quest.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she relaxed, allowed him to tuck her hand into the crook of his arm.

  “Much better,” he murmured.

  His look of pure satisfaction made her want to laugh and smack him at the same time. During the past week, she’d laughed more with him than she could remember laughing during her entire time in England before him.

  “I want to see you tonight,” he said.

  “You didn’t take Gina anywhere yesterday,” she reminded him.

  “Surely it’s time to let that little rule go to the wayside. Besides, if I’m correct about Somerdale’s interest, I’m not going to have that many more nights with you.”

  And she wouldn’t have many with him. She didn’t want to be in the habit of sharing every night with him, because it would be so dreadfully difficult to face all the nights that awaited her without him. “I have plans for the evening.”

  “Such as?” His tone was low, flat, curt. For a moment, she almost believed he might be jealous.

  “I began a new book this afternoon. I want to finish it this evening.”

  “You can finish it at my residence.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to spend every night in each other’s company.”

  “It’s not going to be every night. There’s a finite number, and Somerdale is likely to make that number a small one.” He didn’t bother to disguise his disgruntlement.

  “Today is the first day he’s called. He’s not going to ask for her immediately. Please, let’s not argue about this.”

  He gave a brief nod, and she took it as his acquiescence. If she didn’t care for him so much she would go to him tonight. The problem was that her heart was becoming much more involved than it should.

  “He seems rather besotted,” Rexton said.

  “Yes, he does, doesn’t he? But she doesn’t.”

  “She hasn’t taken her eyes off him.”

  “I know, but . . .” Unable to pinpoint what exactly bothered her, she nibbled on her lower lip.

  “Keep doing that and I’m going to drag you behind a tree and kiss you.”

  With a start, she looked at him. He appeared deadly serious. “Doing what?”

  “Nibble on that enticing lip of yours. If there’s any nibbling to be done, I should be the one doing it.”

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. “Oh, the things you say.” They made her feel incredibly powerful and beguiling.

  “The things I do are better than those I say. And oh, the things I’d like to do with you right this moment.”

  She could see in his eyes what a good many of those things entailed. Naughty, incredible things. “Behave.”

  “I love when you blush.”

  She imagined she was blushing even more. The day seemed unbearably hot all of a sudden.

  “Come to me tonight and I’ll make you blush all over.”

  He would. She knew it without reservation. She needed to change the conversation. “Tell me everything you know about Somerdale. Is he capable of great love, do you think?”

  “Where your sister is concerned, I suspect any man is.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. Gina was lovable. Tillie had once considered herself so, but now she was brittle and cold, afraid to trust any man with her heart, even Rexton. The reason she couldn’t go to him every night. She had to protect her heart. How did other mistresses do it? she wondered.

  At least in her relationship with Rexton, she held some power. Still she didn’t know if it would make things easier when their time together came to its conclusion.

  Rexton was a selfish bastard. He didn’t want her returning to New York, didn’t want the Season to come to an end, didn’t want his association with her to be finished.

  He wanted more of her laughter, her smiles, her company. He wanted people to see her walking with him and to know his interest was in her—not her sister. He no longer cared that she’d been seen kissing a footman, that she was divorced, that she wasn’t suitable for a man who would one day be a duke.

  “Did you enjoy the carousel?” he asked casually, knowing he should be paying more attention to the couple in front of them, ensuring Somerdale did nothing to compromise Gina, nothing that would result in a rushed marriage that hastened the ending of his relationship with Tillie.

  She smiled, the soft, gentle curling of her lips that filled him with a sense of satisfaction and joy unlike any he’d ever known. “You know I did. It was marvelous.”

  “Then I won the wager, and you owe me another night.”

  Her lips shifted into a straight line, but he didn’t think she was truly irritated with him because her eyes remained warm, sparkling with merriment.

  “And you want to claim it tonight?”

  “I’d claim it this very moment with an enthusiastic kiss if I didn’t think you’d go off in a huff afterward.”

  Her smile returned, her laughter tinkled around him. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Only where you’re concerned.” He slowed his step, allowing more distance between them and the strolling couple. “Rather than coming
to me tonight, give me tomorrow.”

  The smile disappeared completely, her brow furrowed. “Tomorrow?”

  “During the day. I want to take you somewhere. Just the two of us.”

  She shook her head. “We can’t be seen going about without Gina.”

  “No one of any consequence, of the Marlborough House Set, will see us.”

  Seeming uncertain, she slid her arm away from his so they were no longer touching. He didn’t like the separation. Perhaps she was right, perhaps some time apart would do them both good, but he knew they were rapidly approaching the mark where they would forever be apart. Somerdale’s wooing of Gina could quicken its arrival.

  “Are we going to see the carousel again? Is it finished?”

  “No. I want to share something else with you.”

  Appearing uncomfortable, she moved her parasol to the other shoulder, back again. “Our arrangement was for the nights only.”

  “What are you afraid of, Tillie?” That he might come to mean something to her, that she wouldn’t want to part ways at the end of the Season? He already knew he didn’t. One night with her was all it had taken. It hadn’t happened the first night he’d bedded her, but the one before, when he’d first caught sight of her smile.

  “I just don’t think it’s wise for us to do things beyond the parameters of our arrangement.”

  “You’ll enjoy it.”

  She shook her head. “You say that with such confidence, as though you know me.”

  “I was correct about the carousel, wasn’t I?”

  The corner of her mouth tilted up slightly and he knew he had her. Only she shook her head. “No. Please don’t ask again.”

  Frustration hit him. She was afraid of something—or at the very least hesitant. He wondered if it had anything to do with Downie, with the way the man had disappointed her. He might have asked if it weren’t for the fact that Gina and Somerdale were walking toward them.

  Smiling, they seemed very much at ease with each other, standing close but not scandalously so. Gina seemed quite enthralled by whatever Somerdale was espousing. Although glad to see her enjoying the attention, Rexton couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he might be on the cusp of finally making progress, if their need for him might end sooner than he wanted. He should have insisted their time together would last as long as Tillie was in the country—and would recommence anytime she returned for a visit.