Not even herself.
Chapter Eight
Oliver woke to a frantic pounding on his front door that reverberated throughout the house. He turned over, willing the visitor to go away. As it was, the sun sat low on the horizon and he had returned home late last night from the dratted dinner party of his mother’s. He had no desire to rise from bed until at least noon.
The noise died soon enough and he settled more deeply into his pillows with a contented sigh. He’d accomplished all he’d set out to do last night: annoy his mother and hope she hated Eloisa enough to object strongly to the union. Which, Roberta being Roberta, she’d performed admirably.
The victory he’d felt last night faded. Oliver rolled over onto his back. He frowned at the ceiling. He hadn’t counted on just how strenuously his mother reacted, and then telling Eloisa she wasn’t good enough simply on the merit she had no title or money or respectable connections? No wonder both Felix and Charlotte had rebelled and fought for their partners. He’d thought it had been a great lark on both their counts when he’d heard the stories. Now he knew they hadn’t been exaggerated. They had genuinely fallen in love, and that must be stronger than any parental outrage.
Not that it mattered, for he didn’t love Eloisa. Their union wouldn’t last longer than the contracted month.
In his mind’s eye, he still saw her standing in the moonlight the night before, shortly before Daniela had called out to him. Eloisa had looked unaccountably lovely with her curls frosted with silver and the pearlescent light reflecting on the single strand of pearls she’d worn at her throat. Her pale skin had given her an ethereal quality, and she’d been breathtaking, after Daniela had called him papa. Her eyes had sparkled and softened. He’d gazed at her in shock when she’d been absorbed in watching the urchin at the window and he’d been so taken with her, he’d given her that impulsive kiss on the cheek.
Perhaps I should have stolen a real kiss. Of course he didn’t have a foot in the parson’s mousetrap. The idea of claiming those lush lips and tasting her wouldn’t send him hurtling down the altar. But nothing would prevent him from striking up a flirtation. She might not be the adventurous type, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy exploration of a different kind, and he really had wanted to pull the pins from her hair and let the mass tumble down her back.
What a bacon-brain I’ve turned into, thinking about how good kissing a woman would feel. Three years had been a long time without feeling the softness of a woman beneath him. He shook his head. Why was he even dwelling on such a thing with Eloisa when he should be sleeping? He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Still, nothing would quiet his thoughts, and the ponderings slid to having her in bed beside him, her hair mussed and her lips swollen from indulging in any number of erotic things. Gah! They’d shared one, nearly chaste kiss. It hadn’t ignited such lust in him that she occupied his waking hours. The last time lust had been involved, he’d taken Maria as a mistress. Sure, the Spanish powder keg had invoked such feelings in him back then and their relationship had burned hot and quick and not without heated arguments that ended with her throwing breakable objects at this head, but with Eloisa, it felt different, brighter somehow, as if the world had suddenly made sense in those fleeting seconds and she was the perfection he’d sought for years.
How exceedingly odd. He hadn’t been on such a quest, not that he knew of.
A discreet scratching on his bedroom door prevented deeper musings. “Enter!” On the off chance it was Daniela at his door, Oliver moved into a sitting position and pulled the bedclothes up to his chin. No sooner had he settled himself than Carruthers entered and stood just inside the room. “A tad early, wouldn’t you say?”
The older man nodded. His expression carried an air of both anxiety and urgency. “I apologize for the hour, but you have a visitor, sir.”
“Can you not send them away and ask them to return later?” A surge of pride swelled his chest. He sounded like Felix just now, with an order of authority in his voice.
“I did indeed ask her that, my lord. She refused.” His aggrieved tone was reflected in his eyes.
“She?” he asked, although he had a sneaking feeling he knew who’d been at the door.
“Miss Hawthorne is here. She’s currently in the parlor, but she seemed upset.” Carruthers frowned. “Shall I tell her you’ll be down soon?”
“I suppose.” What could have possibly dragged the woman from her own bed so early in the morning? His body heated. For all his mental assurances to himself about not wishing to fall in love or be leg-shackled, the thought of tossing Eloisa into his bed and seeing her face flushed with passion had its draw. Surely she wouldn’t call this morning for such an illicit meeting. If so, why would she have the butler announce her presence? Wouldn’t she have found a clandestine way of procuring his attention?
Carruthers cleared his throat. He hadn’t left yet. “Also, Miss Hawthorne referred to you as her betrothed. Did something occur in London you wish to disclose?”
Oh, bother. What a coil. Oliver raked a hand through his hair. The last thing he wanted was for Carruthers or Susan to have their hopes up from the farce. One little peep of an affirmative—no matter the reason—would send the retainers into throes of planning bliss. “Actually, Carruthers, it’s a bit complicated. I’d rather not say more just now.” Of course, they probably already knew what had occurred due to servant gossip. Just another reason I didn’t want extra people underfoot.
The butler nodded. “Very well, sir. I’ll let the lady know to expect you. Then I’ll return to help you dress.” He closed the door behind him.
Damn and blast. He rather hated when Carruthers assumed he couldn’t dress himself or that he hadn’t been doing it for years. He couldn’t spend all his time thinking about his neighbor. He had plans to make. Charts to consult. Paths to forge. Things to see to ahead of his next sea voyage, for he did still plan to leave England at the first opportunity, didn’t he?
As it happened, Oliver did require Carruthers’ assistance, for the cut of the navy coat of superfine was too tailored and tight for him to manage alone. Once he’d completed dressing and let Carruthers fuss with the cravat, he took a deep breath then plunged downstairs. His pulse raced with every step. Why the hell was he so excited to see Eloisa? She meant nothing to him outside a contract partner.
The patter of little feet rang in the corridor behind him was quickly followed by, “Papa!”
He’d barely turned before the girl hurled herself against his legs. She looked like a flower in a dress of dainty pink with a ruffled apron. His heart skipped a beat and warmth spread through his chest. “Hello, poppet.” He picked her up. When she slipped her arms around his neck and nuzzled against his chest and the subtle scent of peaches and sugar engulfed him from her freshly bathed skin, he sighed. “Why are you awake so early?”
“I want to go outside and play. Can we take a walk?” Her ever-present doll dug into the back of his neck, but he didn’t mind. Something about having a child in his arms, and one who depended on him for everything in her life, soothed his troubled soul and gave him new purpose when he hadn’t known he needed one.
“Can we?” He quirked an eyebrow.
She pulled away and looked into his face. “May we take a walk?” She laid a tiny palm against the side of his face. Was there anything as nice in the world as that fairy-like touch? “Please,” she tacked on at the end.
Oliver grinned. He’d been working with her on manners and had only reinforced what Susan had apparently already instilled in her. “That’s better, and yes. I need to talk to Eloisa first. Then Papa will take you walking along the shore. How’s that?”
“Yes.” She nodded. Then her bottom lip puckered and her dark eyes grew sad. “Where’s Mama?”
The joy that had just seconds ago occupied his being froze and broke into a million tiny pieces. Of course the girl would miss her mother. Even if Maria had spent minimal time with the child, some part of Daniela would know sh
e wasn’t around any longer.
He brushed a curl from her forehead then placed a gentle kiss to the smooth skin. “Mama is in Spain, my girl, but she sent you here to me and you’ll never be lonely again.” God, how he hoped that were true, but what would become of her once he sailed? His chest tightened. “Soon, we’ll go for a walk and Papa will twirl you over the waves.” From the back recesses of his memory he recalled his father doing the same to Lauren when she’d been about Daniela’s age.
“You won’t let me fall?”
“I won’t let you fall. I promise.” He set the girl on her feet then delivered a tender swat to her bottom. “Find Susan. Perhaps she’ll have a pastry for you.” Though he should insist on porridge. Wasn’t that the proper thing to feed a child?
“And milk?” Hope rang in the little voice.
“I’d imagine so.” As she pelted off down the hallway once more, he sighed. His shoulders slumped. No matter what happened in his life, Daniela would now be a permanent fixture. He rubbed a hand along his jaw. The last thing he wanted was to remain in England. How utterly dull that would be, especially when he missed everything about the sea. It stirred in his blood and left him aching with longing.
Would it really be so wrong to take Daniela onboard the ship with him when he left, providing he could find some way around the restrictions due to the wars? He’d be well away from Society and its snobbish denizens, so the gossip wouldn’t affect him, but how would the child fare? The knowledge she’d gain while visiting exotic places and ports of call would be more valuable than anything she’d receive from a stodgy nanny or reading story books. Imagine how grand her imagination would grow. But was it in her best interests? Was he qualified to assume sole responsibility for her growth, development, and education?
Finally, unable to waste any more time in the hall, Oliver entered the parlor. Eloisa furiously paced the length of the room. A mix of anxiety and fear lined her expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as he caught her gaze.
“Oh, Oliver, he’s threatened Helen!” She closed the distance between them then hurled herself into his arms much like Daniela had done earlier, except holding Eloisa made him feel anything but the proud parent.
“I beg your pardon, but you’ll need to fill in the details.” His brain numbed the moment her body came against his. He tightened his arms around her and let the heat of her frame warm his. Her short stature and delicate figure brought out his protective instincts, but when she looked up at him with watery green eyes, he just about lost the remnants of his common sense. “Who has threatened your sister?”
When she pulled away, a tear splashed onto her cheek. Pink color infused her face. “Lord Everly.” She accepted the handkerchief he handed her but dropped her gaze. “Helen informed me last night when I came in. He called on her while I was in London with you. She told him straightaway she wouldn’t marry him thanks to your promise to pay Charles’ debt.”
“I thought you’d agreed not to tell Everly about our plan until the end of our contract term?” How was it possible for a woman to be more beautiful while wiping her nose and eyes?
“I did. It was Helen who blurted out the secret.” Eloisa took to pacing again. “It’s my guess she was desperate to encourage Lord Everly’s exit.” She faced him. “Please don’t be cross at her. She’s still young yet.”
“I’m not; however, we will need to do a bit of public simpering in order to retain reputations.” Everly might be a pompous ass and a general menace, but outright thwarting the man could be a sticky prospect. His influence in Society had a long reach, and Lord knew if he attempted to damage the Darrington name, Oliver would bear the brunt of his mother’s wrath. “I’ll need to think on the problem.” He wasn’t a gifted schemer with a gilded tongue like Felix and he wasn’t as deviously clever as Charlotte. How he’d extricate them from the potential mess remained a mystery.
“Pish posh, Oliver. Why do we need to pander to him?” A frown marred the beauty of Eloisa’s perfect face. “He’s an arse and you know it. If we’re rid of him, who cares what he says?”
So said the woman with no title and no responsibilities according to his mother.
Oliver sighed. “Come. Let’s talk.” He gestured toward a settee, noting there was a stuffed bear resting beneath it. Everywhere he looked, Daniela left little touches of herself. An amused smile lifted his lips. How strange life was and how refreshing it could be. When Eloisa seated herself, he occupied the spot next to her. “Whether the man is a blight to Society or not, he is a Peer and we still must play nice. This is the way of things, and it would be in our best interests not to cause a scandal right now.”
“Why? What difference could it possibly make? Soon we’ll all be free of him and won’t need to worry.”
Oh, how adorably naïve she was about such things. He took possession of one of her hands and threaded his fingers with hers. Then he frowned. Why had he done that? She wasn’t really his bride-to-be. There wasn’t any reason to link their hands other than to offer her comfort, but even then, he wouldn’t have held her thusly.
Devil take it. What was the world coming to when a man had to second guess everything?
Still, he didn’t release her. “It does affect us both. If Lord Everly makes a scene and that gets back to my mother, she may try to influence Felix with the family’s purse strings. If Felix decides to distance our family from yours, I won’t be able to fulfill my end of the bargain, which means—”
“Drat.” A crestfallen look entered her face. “You won’t pay off my brother’s debt and Lord Everly will still win Helen.” She glanced up at him and her chin trembled. “I hadn’t thought of all the ramifications.” Her hand shook in his. “Why must dealing with Society notables be so, so…” She narrowed her eyes and he could almost see her mind racing over various words. “…so infuriating.”
“That’s how it always has been, my dear.” He tamped the urge to laugh at her frustrations. He’d learned the lesson all too well growing up the second son of an earl. “I’m afraid it will always be so. At least you’ve been spared the bulk of the negotiations.”
“Bother.” Eloisa sighed. She fell into soft cursing in Italian. “What shall we do?”
“Invite him to dinner?” It was cheeky to ask, but he couldn’t help baiting her.
She yanked her hand from his. “Are you mad?”
Sometimes, he did wonder. “Hmm. Send a bottle of the finest scotch or brandy you can find to his club. Any man would appreciate that offering. Be sure to include a note of flattery.” When she scoffed, he rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to go so far as to apologize for your sister’s outburst, but a nice note of your choosing wouldn’t be remiss.”
“I don’t think I can.” She became studiously interested in the stripes on her mint green dress.
Was she always this stubborn, or did this incident bring out that trait? “Why not?” He put a finger beneath her chin and raised her head. Dear God, those eyes. He could get lost in those mossy pools and not mind.
The muscles in her neck worked with a hard swallow. “It would be a lie. I don’t wish him well. I’m not sorry Helen said what she did. I can’t wait until he leaves us alone.”
“I know.” He dropped his attention to her lips. It would be so easy to take that kiss he’d thought about earlier. Would she mind? “Don’t worry about it. I’ll send the note and the gift and sign my name to it. You and your sister will not be mentioned,” he whispered as he drew closer. “I’ll draw his ire.”
“Thank you, but why would you put yourself out that way?” she asked, edging toward him then stopped when a mere breath separated them.
“I’m a gentleman. When my contract partner is in need, who am I to deny her help?” He slid a hand along her cheek then cupped the back of her head. When Eloisa’s lips parted, he stifled a groan. “Although, in some circumstances, I’m also a bit of a rogue without explanation of why I do the things I do.” It took little movement on his part to meet her mout
h with his, and even less on hers as she met him at the same time.
She uttered a small sound of acceptance or encouragement at the back of her throat and he was lost. Scooting as close as he dared, he settled Eloisa more comfortably in his embrace and moved his lips over hers. Soft, pillowy and just as plush as they looked, they welcomed him, cradled his lips as if meant exclusively for his use.
Blood rushed through his veins to pool in his groin, tightening it. His knees knocked into hers, and with a snort of impatience, he shifted, jamming one between hers and slightly parting her legs. She sucked in a breath, but that only served as an invitation to the deeper recesses of her luscious mouth as opened to him. He took advantage, God help him he did, and searched out her tongue. With that first silky pass along hers and the rapier thrust and parry of heated satin against satin, Oliver lost all noble thought.
He slid his hands down her back. Would that they were standing so he could feel her derriere and crush her against his length or even better, if he were to lay her out on the settee. “Eloisa, I’d like to—”
“Papa.” A tug on his tail coat brought him crashing back to reality. “Papa,” said the little voice again. “May we go on a walk now?”
“What?” He sprang away from the woman beside him as if she were an Egyptian asp. “What?” With a monumental effort, he focused on Daniela’s face as she stared at him with wide eyes. “Right. A walk. Right.” He shoved a hand through his hair then shot a wry glance at Eloisa, who sat, flushed and a tad disheveled, but with sparkling eyes and a smile. “I promised the child I’d walk the shore with her.” If he didn’t do something, he’d send the girl on her way and resume his attempt to devour his mock-fiancée right there in the parlor.
The Bridal Contract (Darrington family Book 3) Page 10
