She opened the door to Harriet’s bedchamber to find her sitting up in bed. “My throat hurts,” she couched. “I feel all hot and achy.”
“Perhaps that will teach you to go running about the place with no shoes on,” Letitia said gently. She smoothed Harriet’s hair. “Lie down. Try and get back to sleep. You need to rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Will you stay with me?” Harriet asked, her voice croaky.
“Of course.”
* * *
“Miss Cooper?”
Lord Radcliffe’s voice tugged her gently from her dreams. Letitia blinked. Where was she? Beside her, she could just make out the inky outline of Harriet’s sleeping body. She must have fallen asleep here at Harriet’s bedside. Succumbed to her exhaustion.
Lord Radcliffe was leaning over her, a gentle hand against her shoulder.
Letitia sat hurriedly, mortified at being discovered here in such a state. She wore nothing but her night shift and shawl, her hair spilling messily over her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, My Lord,” she gushed. “I—”
“Nonsense. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I just thought you’d sleep better in your own bed.” He smiled. “You didn’t look particularly comfortable squeezed in beside Harriet there.”
He was right. She had fallen asleep in a strange position and already her back had begun to ache. She climbed to her feet, stumbling towards the bedpost as a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her.
Lord Radcliffe’s hand shot out to steady her. “You’re exhausted,” he said gently.
The feel of his hand against the thin cotton of her nightshift sent a bolt of energy through her.
She hurriedly slipped out of Harriet’s bedroom, desperate to escape to her attic room before she said something she regretted.
But as she slipped out into the hallway, she heard the floorboards creak behind her. She turned to see Lord Radcliffe pulling the door closed behind them.
Chapter 14
Lord Radcliffe stepped close. “I just thought to wish you goodnight, Miss Cooper. And to thank you for everything you’ve done of late.”
Letitia swallowed hard. She managed a faint nod. In spite of her father’s footmen and the long hours and the endless cups of magic tea, there was nowhere else in the world she had wanted to be.
“It’s quite all right, My Lord. I’m very happy to do them if it will help you and Harriet.”
“It has helped us,” he said, his voice husky. “It has helped us more than you could know.”
He was standing close. So close she could see the faint hint of stubble prickling his jaw. How wrong it felt to be standing so close to him.
How wrong, and yet so right. A part of her knew she ought to protest. Knew she ought to say:
“Good night then, My Lord. I will see you in the morning.”
It would be the appropriate thing to do, for certain. Especially given the guilt she carried over her endless barrage of lies. But just for now, her secrets were safe. Just for now, there was no one about to see them. Would it really be the worst thing in the world to let herself enjoy this silent, fleeting moment?
Her skin was hot beneath her nightshift. Sharp pricks of gooseflesh had exploded over her legs.
Lord Radcliffe reached down and gently lifted away the strand of hair that had fallen across her eye. It sent a shiver through her. “You are a treasure, Molly Cooper. Truly.”
Letitia swallowed hard.
She knew, of course, how inappropriate it was for him to be here, looking down at her like this. Knew how inappropriate it was for her to be standing before him in a state of undress, pretending to be something she was not. And yet somehow the chaos of the past few days had rendered such things insignificant. After the chaos of the past few days, might she just allow herself to enjoy this? Might she just allow herself to feel?
And that look in his eyes…
In the shaft of moonlight spilling into the hallway, Letitia could see his adoring expression, the faint part of his lips. This, she felt certain, was the way princes looked at their princesses in all the books she had read as a child. This was the way a gentleman looked at a lady when she made him breathless with desire.
Her lips were inches from his. She could feel his breath warm against her cheek.
So this is how it feels to have a gentleman’s breath against your skin.
It was more delicious than she could have dared imagine. And it made that ache, that longing inside her intensify.
She wanted more. Wanted it so badly she thought she might cry out with the urgency of it. But before she could make a sound, their lips were touching. His doing or hers? She couldn’t be sure. She only knew it was happening. She was kissing a gentleman. She was kissing Lord Radcliffe. The thought was dizzying.
Her lips parted beneath his, deepening the kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, hot and possessive. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. This flicker Lord Radcliffe had lit inside her was becoming a blaze. She felt herself move instinctively towards him. Felt her arms slide and tighten around his body. She had no thought of what her body was doing. She did not feel in control. These urges, these sensations were so foreign, so unknown they were terrifying. And yet she never wanted them to end.
Lord Radcliffe pressed a firm hand to her back, drawing her closer. Her nipples grazed against his chest, becoming firm peaks against the thin fabric of her nightshift. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling him back into a kiss.
His other hand slid from her cheek, his fingers curling around the side of her ribs. His lips began to work their way down over her chin, along the bare skin on her neck. His hands slid lower, finding the sharp curve of her hips. Letitia arched her back towards him, wanting more. Needing more. She felt utterly out of control. Felt as though she had become a slave to the fire inside her body.
Lord Radcliffe’s lips worked their way along the neckline of her nightshift, making her breasts ache with need.
And what were her hands doing? She had no thought of it. She was feeling her way through the shadows like a blind man. Feeling every line, every curve of him. She had a fistful of his shirt, she realized, her other hand running over the line of buttons on the front of his waistcoat. And then her fingers found their way beneath his shirt, pressing hard against the hot, flat plane of his stomach.
She heard his sharp intake of breath. Felt his kiss deepen, as though trying to take all of her in.
Lord Radcliffe pulled away abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he gushed. “So sorry.” He folded his hands behind his head and hurriedly tucked in his shirt. She could see his arousal straining against the front of his trousers.
When he looked back at her, there was regret in his eyes. And something else too. Horror.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice husky. “I’m so terribly sorry. I don’t know what I was…” He faded out, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “I’m so terribly sorry.”
Letitia stared back at him. She wanted to cry out. Wanted to grab hold of him and never let go. Wanted his hands back where they had been, making her writhe and moan and ache.
But the anguish on his face told her all she needed to know. This had been nothing but a mistake. An alcohol and exhaustion-fueled mistake. The feeling left a coldness inside her, despite the fire that continued to burn between her legs. How could he regret a thing that had felt so wonderful?
She knew why, of course. She knew well how close they had been to crossing a line that was not theirs to cross. A line an unmarried lady never ought to cross. Or even an unmarried kitchen hand. With Lord Radcliffe’s hands on her, all thoughts of decency had flown from her mind.
We might dispense with the appropriate etiquette for a time, he had said. But this, Letitia knew, could well have destroyed her.
Lord Radcliffe hurriedly buttoned his waistcoat. “I’m so sorry, Miss Cooper,” he said again. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Letitia managed a dazed nod, then turned abru
ptly and raced up to her attic room. She threw herself into bed, pulling the blankets up over her head.
Tears pricked her eyes and she let them spill down her cheeks. She buried her face in the pillow and cried herself to sleep.
* * *
Algernon closed his eyes against the violent spear of morning light. He had barely slept. How could he? His mind was roiling with regret, with shame and yes, with longing and lust.
He knew he had made a serious mistake. One from which there was likely to be no coming back from.
How could I have been so foolish? How could I have let myself lose control that way?
How could you not have?, a part of him argued back. She had been there, so perfect, so willing…
Algernon cursed under his breath. This was no time for excuses. No time to try and find a justification. He had done the wrong thing and that was all there was to it. Molly Cooper had come to his manor expecting nothing more than employment. And she had found herself on the end of her employer’s lustful advances.
Algernon was just grateful he had managed to stop himself when he had. He couldn’t bear to think what the repercussions would have been had he given in to his urges.
Reluctantly, he climbed out of bed. The world outside his bedchamber was a dangerous one. It had Molly Cooper in it.
Not just dangerous. Deadly.
But it also had his sick daughter in it. And Algernon was anxious to see if she had improved. He hurriedly slipped on his shirt and trousers and made his way down the hallway to Harriet’s room.
He opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Why so tentative, he wondered? Was he scared of waking Harriet, or scared of finding Miss Cooper at her bedside again? Scared of finding her there in her nightshift and shawl, curled up on the edge of the bed, the way he had found her the previous night.
Molly Cooper, mercifully, was not in Harriet’s room.
His daughter was curled up on her side, watching him with her big blue eyes.
“You can come in, Papa,” she said, her voice still croaky.
Algernon smiled. He perched on the edge of the bed and smoothed Harriet’s hair. “Are you feeling better this morning, my love?”
Harriet nodded. “I should like to get up.”
“Very well.” Algernon smiled. “Perhaps when you’re dressed we can have a little breakfast together.”
Harriet nodded enthusiastically, but Algernon felt the smile disappearing from his lips.
How can I ever show my face in front of Miss Cooper again?
* * *
Letitia had never been so glad to see Margaret in her life.
The cook shuffled into the kitchen with her hair back in its customary tight bun and her lips in their customary scowl. Letitia was already hard at work peeling carrots for the afternoon meal.
Margaret planted her hands on her hips. “Well now. Just look at this. Molly Cooper hard at work. Perhaps I ought to take to my sick bed more often.”
Letitia flashed a short smile. Her early arrival in the kitchen had nothing to do with placating Margaret, and everything to do with keeping her mind occupied after the events of last night. She had been down here peeling and chopping and scrubbing hours before dawn.
Perhaps it had a little to do with not running into Lord Radcliffe as well. The kitchen felt like something of a safe haven.
I don’t know why. Lord Radcliffe has been down here on more than one occasion…
Although Letitia felt rather certain he would not be doing such a thing today.
Margaret peered into the jellied brown remains of the cabbage soup. She snorted. “Well,” she said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. “It seems as though the place fell apart in my absence.”
“Yes,” Letitia said firmly. “It most certainly did.”
* * *
Letitia stayed hidden in the kitchen for much of the day, sending Lord Radcliffe’s footmen to deliver meals, and taking her nuncheon huddled in a corner by the range.
And then the message came.
“Miss Cooper?” One of the Marquess’s young footmen had appeared at the kitchen door. “Lord Radcliffe has asked if he may see you in his study.”
Letitia swallowed hard, her stomach turning over. She had hoped they might get by without ever mentioning the previous night again. Hoped they might do their best to let it slide away and be forgotten.
What am I thinking? There is no way I will ever forget feeling such a way…
She put down her knife and nodded, ignoring Margaret’s disapproving tutting. She was right to be disapproving, Letitia thought distantly. Whatever reason Margaret had cooked up for her being summoned to the Marquess’s office could be no more sordid than the truth.
She climbed the stairs slowly, her stomach roiling. In spite of herself, the thud of her heart was still there. The warmth in her belly was still there. Her body, she was coming to realize, was longing to see the Marquess. Even though her mind was dreading it.
She knocked tentatively. “Lord Radcliffe?”
“Come in, Miss Cooper.” He stood from behind his desk as she entered, twisting a pen edgily between his fingers. There was that look she had seen last night. That look that told her how much of a mistake he had made. That look that told her how much he regretted it all.
And yet, that warmth, that longing, that thud of her heart… How she wished she could tell her body to stop.
Lord Radcliffe looked down, then seemed to force himself to meet her eyes.
“I wanted to apologize properly,” he said, his voice low. “What happened last night was simply unacceptable. And I take full responsibility. I can assure you, it will never happen again.”
Letitia felt oddly cold. She knew, of course, that such a thing would never happen again. How could it? And yet, hearing Lord Radcliff speak the words made her chest ache. To her horror, tears sprung up behind her eyes. She swallowed hard, forcing them away.
“It was a mistake,” she said finally. “I understand.”
For a moment, Lord Radcliff didn’t speak. “Yes,” he said finally, huskily. “A mistake.”
She hated the formal manner with which he was now speaking to her. How she longed to be sitting around the supper table with him again, eating cheese and drinking wine.
But she said, “Consider it forgotten, My Lord.” She was sure the waver in her voice betrayed her.
Lord Radcliffe managed a small smile. “Thank you, Miss Cooper. That is most understanding of you. I appreciate it more than you could know.”
Letitia knotted her fingers together and looked at the floor. She wanted him. Wanted to go to him so desperately. Wanted to feel his lips on hers and his hands on her skin. Wanted to feel that burn inside her as his fingers slid higher up her thighs.
And in that instant, Letitia realized she had no choice but to leave the Radcliffe manor. Last night could not be forgotten. It didn’t matter how many times Lord Radcliffe asked for forgiveness. It didn’t matter how many times she told him she understood. Just the sight of him lit a fire inside her she had not known she was capable of feeling. A fire that had multiplied tenfold last night. And to live under the same roof as him, knowing she would never experience such a thing again? To watch him disappear to the balls, knowing one day soon he would bring home a wife? That was something Letitia knew she couldn’t bear.
She would be homeless. Would have no means of making money. But it didn’t matter. It had to be better than the alternative.
She swallowed hard. “May I be excused, My Lord?”
The Marquess nodded. “Of course. Thank you, Miss Cooper.” He sat back at his desk and turned back to his paperwork.
Letitia hurried from his office and ran upstairs to her attic room. She pulled the cloth bag from beneath the bed and threw in her belongings.
Chapter 15
Harriet pulled Miss Cooper’s book from her side table and began to read. Which chapter were they up to? Miss Cooper had been so busy in the kitchen lately they had had little time to read t
ogether.
Harriet preferred reading with Miss Cooper to reading alone. But Papa had told her lessons with Miss Scott would start again tomorrow. Tomorrow she would have no chance to lie on her bed and read about pirates. Tomorrow she would be scrawling down her Latin phrases while Miss Scott’s footsteps clicked back and forth across the sitting room.
Harriet flicked through the pages. And then she stopped, as movement from outside the window caught her eye. She turned to look into the garden. Someone was hurrying across the manor grounds towards the main gate.
Devilish Games 0f A Virtuous Lady (Steamy Historical Romance) Page 14
