Alone in the garden with the man she had set her heart upon, she was kissing him. And more telling, he was kissing her!
His soft warm lips captured hers. A gentle, uncertain kiss at first. Then she heard him groan and he pressed his lips harder against hers as his tongue swept into her mouth. She had always prayed that her first real kiss would be good, that her knees would be trembling. Avery was more than good, he was masterful. Her knees threatened to buckle under her.
Oh yes. Oh please.
She tasted the bitter tobacco in his mouth, surprised when instead of finding it displeasing she wanted more. Her lips yielded to his urgent passion, urging him on. Inviting him to lay claim to all that she offered.
Her hands now gripped tightly to the lapels of his jacket. She had heard enough in the ladies’ retiring rooms at balls to know that if you wanted a man to keep kissing you, you held fast to him.
A warm, strong hand held the side of her hip. She wriggled just a little to show her appreciation. His grip tightened.
Avery’s other hand slipped under the hair at the back of her neck and tilted her head. He leaned further over her, enveloping Lucy within his warmth.
With her heart racing, she felt a rush of adrenaline course through her body. Emboldened by his response to her entreaty, she slipped a hand under the bottom edge of his cravat. Her petite fingers searched for and found his naked skin. This was heaven.
He gasped.
She froze.
He released her from his embrace, his lips quickly leaving hers. Firm hands took hold of her wrists and pushed her hands away. He stepped back, gasping for air as a look of abject horror appeared on his face. He attempted to straighten his cravat.
‘Oh God, what have I done?’ he uttered.
For all her well-laid-out plans, Lucy had not counted on this response. Her mind went blank.
‘We kissed,’ she replied. Panic now threatened to overwhelm her.
‘Why on earth did you do that?’ he replied.
The expression on his face crushed all but the merest of her hopes.
‘I thought that was what you wanted. I . . .’ she stammered.
He thrust his hand, palm facing outward, toward her.
‘It was the last thing I wanted. I knew I should have gone back inside as soon as you arrived. I sensed you were up to something.’
Hot tears sprang to Lucy’s eyes. From the victorious thoughts of a moment ago, suddenly everything was going horribly wrong.
Avery’s eyes narrowed.
‘I must ask. Did you decide right from the outset that I was some kind of sport? A plaything for a rich, spoilt young miss to toy with? You must think me an utter fool.’
He raked his hand through his hair and chuckled bitterly.
‘And to think I believed you when you said you were my friend. That you only wanted to help. I’m surprised you were able to keep a straight face every time you gave me dance lessons.’
No. No.
‘I did want, I mean I do want to be your friend. It’s just that I want . . .’ she cried.
He stepped back, anger evident in the sharp lines around his mouth.
‘Want what? You want to put me on the end of a leash and parade me around London as your new colourful pet? Don’t think for a moment I have been blind to the machinations of all the young misses fawning over me. Asking me in their soft, girlish voices how hard a life I must have led. How gallant and brave a soldier I must have been. I may be an outsider to London society, but I am not stupid.’
Lucy stepped forward, her hands reaching out in supplication, as she desperately tried to make him understand. As she attempted to take hold of his lapels once more, he angrily pushed her away.
‘Let go of me, you cunning wench! Let me be!’
Wrong-footed, Lucy staggered back, falling hard against the sharp thorns of the nearby rose bush. She cried out in pain as the thorns tore through her gown and dug deep into her skin.
Avery’s anger immediately disappeared.
‘Oh no. Oh Lucy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you that hard,’ Avery said, coming quickly to her side.
He tugged at the rose bush as Lucy screwed her eyes shut. All her dreams were in tatters.
‘I’m sorry, Avery. I’m sorry, I never meant to . . .’
‘Ssh,’ he murmured.
He leaned in close, tugging on the bodice of her gown as he attempted to free her. Lucy looked sadly away, overcome by the depth of her embarrassment and shame.
Avery struggled with the tangled gown for a minute or so before finally sighing and saying, ‘I will have to undo some of the buttons at the back of your gown to get to the thorns. There is no other way I can free you.’
She silently nodded her head. Her humiliation was complete. Anything Avery did now simply didn’t matter. All she wanted to do was escape from his hurtful words, go back inside and hide.
Avery unhooked four buttons, allowing the top of the gown to slip off Lucy’s shoulders. The ivory skin of her right breast was bared to the chill night air. She shivered. With the fabric now closer to his reach, he slowly disentangled her from the rose bush.
‘There, that should do it,’ he said.
She turned round, and waited with resignation for him to button her gown back up.
‘Please hurry,’ she pleaded.
When he didn’t reply she turned to him. Her gaze followed the direction in which his eyes were focused and her heart stopped.
At the edge of the garden path, only a matter of feet away, stood her father. Behind him on the bottom step of the terrace was Lord Langham.
‘Lucy, go upstairs to your room and change. You will await your mother,’ the duke said.
‘Papa?’ she whispered.
‘Go,’ he replied. The controlled rage in his voice brooked no misunderstanding.
She pulled the top of her gown back up and stepped away. As she put her foot on the bottom step of the terrace, she gave a backward glance to Avery.
His gaze was still fixed firmly on her father. It was as if Avery had been turned to stone. As she reached the top step of the terrace, she heard her father say, ‘My study, Mr Fox.’
In the privacy of her bedroom, she quickly changed out of the torn dress. After attending to the cuts on Lucy’s back, Rose helped her into a simple white satin gown with matching ribbons. If she received her father’s summons to join the dinner party downstairs, Lucy intended to be as near to invisible as she could for the rest of the evening. She sat quietly in front of her dressing mirror as her maid did her best to fix Lucy’s hair.
A little while later, a knock on the door heralded her mother.
The duchess quickly dismissed Rose and closed the door behind her. Lady Caroline placed a large blue velvet jewel case on the dressing table and crossed to Lucy’s wardrobe.
‘Something a little more elegant might be in order,’ Lady Caroline said. She opened the double doors of Lucy’s wardrobe and searched for a moment.
‘Where is your silver and gold gown?’ she asked.
Lucy pointed to the torn gown, which lay on her bed.
Her mother sighed. ‘Oh, Lucy; what have you done?’
‘It was an accident, I slipped and fell against the roses by the arbour,’ Lucy replied.
She heard her mother’s breathing falter on the edge of a sob. When the duchess turned back from the closet, her eyes were brimming with tears.
‘My dear girl,’ she muttered.
Lucy rose from her chair. Taking hold of her mother’s hand, she gave it a gentle pat. Everything would be all right. She would apologise to all and everything would be forgiven.
‘I’m sorry for making such a scene outside. It was foolish of me. I know Papa will be angry with me, but I promise to be on my best behaviour for the rest of the evening. You will not hear a sound from my lips.’
She had learnt a salutary lesson this evening. She had underestimated Avery and in the process lost his good opinion and friendship. The pain she current
ly felt would eventually ease, as would the cuts on her back.
The duchess shook her head.
‘If only it were that simple.’
A cold dread came over Lucy. What had her father and Lord Langham done to Avery?
‘It wasn’t Mr Fox’s fault; I sought him out in the garden,’ she said.
‘At first I don’t expect it was; I had noticed you have taken a particular interest in Mr Fox. But from what your father tells me, your Mr Fox did not behave as a gentleman should have under the circumstances. He and Lord Langham saw the two of you kissing from the ballroom doorway and from what I understand, Mr Fox was a willing participant in the exchange.’
Lucy hung her head in shame. Not only had she seriously damaged her relationship with Avery, but now he would be held in a very dim light by the rest of her family. And the Langhams. The evening was fast descending into disaster.
‘I shall go and speak with Papa and explain the situation; I take full responsibility,’ Lucy replied.
Her mother went back to the wardrobe and took out a deep pink velvet gown. It was one of Lucy’s favourites.
‘You will change into this and put on the gold and pearl tiara your maternal grandmother left you.’
She nodded toward the jewel box and handed the gown to Lucy.
‘A tiara?’ Lucy exclaimed.
‘Yes; it is the same one I wore for the announcement of my betrothal to your father. You will do the same for your engagement to Mr Fox.’
The gown fell to the floor.
‘No!’ Lucy cried.
Her mother bent down and picked up the gown.
‘Your indiscretion in the garden tonight left your father with little choice. You had the top of your gown open, and Mr Fox’s hands were on your naked person. The encounter was in full view of anyone who happened to be in the garden. Your father has demanded Mr Fox make an offer for your hand in marriage, and Lord Langham concurs. Anything else will leave you irrevocably ruined.’
‘And what did Mr Fox say?’ Lucy replied.
When the duchess sighed, any hope that Lucy might have held for Avery’s forgiveness died.
‘I am not sure of the conversation which is currently taking place in your father’s study, but I expect the outcome will be as it should be. You and Mr Fox will be getting married before we leave for Scotland.’
At that, Lucy knew her fate was sealed. Her plans to win Avery’s heart and then his hand had completely failed. If, as she suspected, he hated her at this moment, she couldn’t find fault with him.
‘Now, let’s get you changed and I shall come back and fetch you when your father is ready to make the announcement. You should take the time to compose yourself and find a happy smile.’
‘Mama, I don’t want to marry Avery Fox,’ Lucy replied. The thought of being bound to a man who would resent her presence in his life filled her with dismay.
The duchess wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter and kissed her hair.
‘I’m afraid you don’t have any say in the matter anymore, Lucy. The moment you went into the garden to meet with Mr Fox alone you set events in motion. I suspected you were up to something this evening, but even I hadn’t thought you would go so far. Unfortunately, your uncle arrived not long ago and is now aware of what took place this evening. There is nothing else to be done. The Bishop of London holds the moral heart of this family under his command and he will make certain that no disgrace comes to it.’
When Rose returned to Lucy’s room she found her mistress seated on the edge of her bed, the betrothal gown held limply in her hand. Lucy handed her the gown and stood silent while her maid worked on the long line of buttons up its back.
A short ten minutes later she descended the stairs. Carefully making sure she held her head up high and kept her steps even and sure, Lucy went to face her fate.
The first sign that something was amiss was the silence.
By rights there should have been a hum of activity on the ground floor. A buzz from the dining room. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Alex and David standing side by side. As she approached, her two brothers exchanged a pained look. David offered her his hand.
‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.
‘The party is over; Clarice and Millie are sitting with Mama upstairs. Everyone else has gone home,’ David replied.
Everyone.
Hope flared in her heart. Perhaps the senior men of her family had seen sense and were no longer pressing for her and Avery to marry. A gush of air escaped her lungs. Relief.
‘Thank God,’ she whispered.
Alex and David shared another grim look.
‘It’s not over, Lucy. Avery has refused to offer for you, but Papa will have his way,’ Alex said.
At that moment, she wasn’t certain which hurt more. The fact that she would eventually have to go through with the marriage, or that Avery had left without asking for her hand.
He must truly hate her.
‘Ah, there you are,’ her father said, coming out of his study. He beckoned to her.
Once she was inside his study, he closed the door behind him. Seated on a low leather couch by the fire was her uncle. The bishop rose from his chair and came to her.
‘You may think me harsh in pressing for this union, but trust me, I have only your best interests at heart,’ he said. His stern countenance reflected the seriousness of the situation.
Turning to the duke, he gave a nod of his head.
‘I leave the rest of this up to you and Langham.’
The duke closed his eyes. ‘Yes of course; goodnight, brother.’
As the door closed behind her uncle, Lucy fixed her gaze on her father. The steely look on his face said it all. There was no point in pleading with him; it was evident his mind was made up.
‘Alex tells me Mr Fox refused to offer for my hand and that he has already left.’
‘Yes on both counts, but Mr Fox will return. It shouldn’t take long for Langham to convince him of the need for the two of you to marry,’ the duke replied.
She searched her father’s face, hoping to find a crack in his grim facade.
‘Papa, you cannot mean it. You must reconsider. I do not want this union, and neither does Avery. He has made his position clear.’
Her father dragged his fingers tightly through his hair. In the hour or so since she had seen him last, he had visibly aged. Worry lines etched his face.
‘Unfortunately, I have not changed my mind, Lucy. You put us all in an impossible situation and there is only one logical course of action to solve the problem. As soon as Langham sends word that Mr Fox has agreed to marry you, we will begin wedding preparations.’
CHAPTER NINE
A little over half a mile away, Avery sat outside on the balcony to his room and stared up at the cloudy London sky. He drew back on his cheroot and blew large puffs of smoke out into the air.
‘Bloody hell,’ he cursed.
The night had been a complete disaster. What he had assumed was going to be a relatively sedate affair had turned into his worst nightmare.
He laid his head back against the Portland stone wall of Langham House. The French doors leading back into his bedroom were closed firmly behind him. Since Lady Alice had made it clear he was not to smoke within the confines of the house, Avery had taken great pains to ensure no smoke drifted in from outside.
If he had his way, he would be sitting back in the pub at the Queens Head in Lambeth, several drinks into a long night of getting seriously drunk. He had remained at Langham House only due to the overwhelming sense of obligation he felt toward Lord Langham.
‘You must adhere to the rules of polite society, Avery, and offer for Lady Lucy’s hand. You have no choice,’ the earl pleaded upon their return to Mill Street.
He snorted. What did he care for polite society? And who the devil were they to tell him how to live his life? All the ton seemed to care about was ensuring people like him did exactly what they were told. To control
his life even more than the army had done.
As for Lucy, he was convinced she had played him for a guileless fool. He slowly clenched the fingers and thumb of his damaged left hand, tightly winding them together. The pain of her deception burned deep.
Lord Langham had at least won part of the argument, with Avery reluctantly agreeing to stay on at Langham House. He hated himself for having allowed his newly found taste for the finer things in life to have played a part in his decision.
Outside of this house, he had few prospects for making his way in the world. His mangled left hand discounted him for manual labour, while his lack of formal education meant he would struggle to secure a coveted position as a clerk. London was full of former soldiers, all seeking to make a living. Many were able-bodied, but many others had lifelong injuries far worse than his own. He knew he had no right to self-pity. How many of those men would be clambering over him to marry the daughter of a duke?
‘All of them,’ he muttered.
During the heated row he had endured with Lord Langham, he had been forced to concede that Lucy was not to blame for what had transpired in the garden. What on earth had possessed him to haul her into his arms and kiss her like that?
He shook his head, knowing full well why he had let his hands roam over the feminine curves of her body. Why he had succumbed to her enticing lips. It wasn’t just the gown which had seized his imagination. From the very first time he set eyes on Lucy, everything about her had stirred his manly desires.
She was possessed of exactly the kind of feminine physique which Avery found sexually alluring. In any other circumstance he would not have shown restraint with a young lady who offered her charms so willingly. He would have revealed the depth of his need.
It had been an eternity since his body reacted to a woman in the way it had with Lucy. A number of the girls at Lord Rokewood’s estate had made their interest in him known once he was sufficiently recovered from his battle wounds. With his tussle of dark hair and bedroom smile, he was soon fighting off the amorous advances of several servant girls.
Not that he put up any form of struggle. Appreciating a woman’s body and bringing her to the pinnacle of sexual pleasure was something he had learnt early in life. His virginity was lost not long after he joined the army. In the bedroom or the local barn, he was a master of the art of seduction. Nothing gave him more satisfaction than to hear a woman climax under the attention of his heated body.
The Duke's Daughter Page 9
