Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718)

by Merrill, Christine; Burrows, Annie; Justiss, Julia

  ‘I know which flowers to send to the maiden I’ve danced with at a ball, and which to avoid,’ he replied. ‘I’m starting on—’

  The carriage hit a rut, throwing them back into their seats. Maggie immediately leaned forward, her face paling as she put a hand to her mouth. ‘I’m afraid I’m suddenly feeling very unwell,’ she whispered.

  Christopher leaned out the window and called up to the driver, ‘Slow them to a walk, if you please.’ Looking back to Maggie, he said, ‘Better?’

  Though she gave him a quick nod, she kept the hand to her lips. Frowning as he inspected Maggie’s white face, Christopher said, ‘Why don’t we go directly to Upper Brook Street? It’s only a few streets more. While you get settled more comfortably, I’ll see Ellie home, then come back to consult Giles.’

  ‘I would appreciate that,’ Maggie said.

  ‘There’s no need,’ Ellie said. ‘I can make my way home from Lady Maggie’s.’

  ‘Certainly not,’ Christopher said. ‘When a gentleman invites a lady for a drive, he always sees her safely home. That’s the rule, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well—yes,’ Ellie admitted.

  ‘End of discussion.’ Leaning out again, he gave the jarvey the address.

  Soon after, they arrived at Lyndlington’s house. ‘I’ll turn Maggie over to her maid and be back in a moment,’ Christopher said.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Ellie asked.

  Maggie shook her head. ‘I’ll feel better after I lie down. Or not.’ She sighed. ‘Quite annoying at times, this business of making heirs. Come see me again soon.’ After pressing Ellie’s hand, she let Christopher help her down.

  In her concern for Maggie, it didn’t occur to Ellie until after the pair walked away that she would now be alone with Christopher for the rest of the transit to Hans Place.

  A different kind of agitation began to swirl in her belly, and the opposing voices that had been nattering at her last night resumed their argument. By the time Christopher returned, she was so nervous she jumped when he took the seat beside her.

  Trying to distract herself from the urge to sidle closer, replacing the warmth emanating from him with the feel of his thigh, arm and shoulder against hers, she stuttered, ‘D-did you get Lady Maggie settled?’

  Christopher chuckled. ‘Her maid came running, took one look at her face, and whisked her away, talking of weak tea and stale biscuits. The last I heard was Maggie grumbling that she didn’t want to be wrapped in cotton wool.’

  A bleak image struck Ellie, the memory of a time she’d been ill while Summerville’s mistress. Learning she was indisposed, her protector took himself off to find other amusement. After asking if she required anything, the maid he’d engaged to serve her swiftly withdrew. Aching and feverish, Ellie wrapped herself in a shawl and dragged a chair near the fire, her only companion the tick of the mantel clock.

  How many years had it been since anyone had cosseted her, sick or well?

  ‘It’s good to have friends and family to watch over you,’ Christopher said quietly, seeming with uncanny understanding to sense the source of her sadness. ‘You have friends like that now, Ellie. If you are ever ill or troubled or in need, you must call on them.’

  She nodded, her throat too tight for speech. And when Christopher took her hand, she couldn’t resist any longer. As if she belonged there, she lay her head against his shoulder.

  Lacing his fingers with hers, he wrapped his other arm around her to pat her shoulder while she forced away the grim memories. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured a few minutes later, as he moved his arm away.

  She ought to let go his fingers, but the aching tenderness of being comforted was so sweet, so rare, she couldn’t quite manage it. She looked up at his face, trying to summon words to express how much his compassion meant.

  Within an instant, gratitude turned to yearning. With everything in her, she wanted to pull his head down and recapture the lips she had briefly touched before, that simple caress setting her afire with need and urgency. She shoved her hand beneath her skirts before she did just that.

  As if equally unable to look away, his turquoise eyes studied her. With a little thrill, she recognised when concern deepened to desire. Breath hitching in her throat, she angled her head up, unwilling this time to make the first move, desperately hoping he would.

  Instead, he drew away. She stifled a sound of bitter disappointment. Then, he turned back and cupped her chin in his hand. ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered, and kissed her.

  A shock of sensation rocketed through her as, with long, slow strokes, he tasted her, licking and nibbling at her lips. He didn’t probe at them, demanding entry, but after a moment of feeling the exquisite hot wet plush of his tongue against her mouth, she just had to learn the feel of it inside. With a whimper, she opened her mouth to him.

  Once again, he didn’t rush, but entered gently, tentatively, not moving to explore until she brought her tongue to meet his. Ah, then, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, he explored her with relentless precision, the lazy scouring of his tongue over her teeth, her tongue setting off a series of little explosions, like a string of fireworks.

  Her heartbeat stampeded as her body seemed to heat and melt under his touch. The throbbing intensity at her centre built and built, until she was pressing against him, desperate for more.

  The carriage hit another rut, jolting them apart. Steadying her back on the seat with trembling fingers, Christopher held her at arm’s length, his eyes closed as he steadied his breathing.

  Only as the carriage slowed, signalling they were near their destination, did her brain finally emerge from the miasma of sensation that had swamped it. Remorse as intense as her disappointment over the interruption overwhelmed her, cooling the heat of passion.

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to tempt you again.’

  He deposited a kiss on her hand before releasing it. ‘It appears neither of us is very good at resisting temptation. But we’ll have to do better. Just the few things I’ve learned so far have made me realise how much I need more lessons.’

  Ellie wasn’t sure she could do better. Seat her beside him in a covered carriage, away from watching eyes, and she knew she’d be driven to beg for more of his marvellous kisses.

  Fortunately, before good sense could browbeat desire into doing the prudent thing and ending the lessons straight away, the vehicle halted at Hans Place. Perhaps as eager as she was to avoid thinking about the implications of what had just happened, Christopher jumped out, then held out a hand to help her down.

  ‘You needn’t walk me in.’

  ‘A gentleman always walks a lady in.’

  She hesitated a moment, not sure she wanted to confront the issue. ‘Even when she hasn’t acted like a lady?’

  ‘Maybe not like an innocent maid,’ he allowed. ‘But very much like a beautiful, courageous, desirable lady. You’ll be occupied, meeting your sister tomorrow?’ he asked, skirting away from the dangerous topic.

  ‘I’m not sure yet. I need to spend time at the school. With my family coming to town, and the…lessons, I’ve been neglecting it.’

  He nodded. ‘Send me a note when you’re ready to resume. Now that the Reform Bill has passed the Commons, the focus has shifted to the debate in the Lords. I’m consulting with Giles and the other Hellions today, to see what we can do to persuade some of the members.’

  ‘Vital work, to be sure. Lessons can wait.’

  He hesitated, as if to say something more, and she had an instant’s terror that he’d reached the same conclusion she was resisting, and would tell her they should discontinue the lessons entirely.

  Instead, to her guilty relief, he smiled. ‘Lessons are important, too. You’ll send me a note, then?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. And thank you again for your support t
oday. I…I can’t truly express how much it meant.’ How much you mean.

  ‘And you can’t begin to know how much a pleasure it was.’ With that, he tipped his hat and motioned her towards the door Tarleton held open for her. ‘Goodbye, Ellie.’

  * * *

  After bidding him farewell, Ellie walked up to her sitting room. Christopher’s final statement must refer, at least in part, to the kiss they’d just shared. Had it been as difficult to resist for him as it had been for her?

  Should she heed prudence, and call off the lessons? That single first kiss hadn’t been enough to satisfy her, and the second, even more marvellous one, just whetted her appetite to explore further.

  Tasting pleasure with him would allow her to blot out the bitter years of forced intimacy, replacing them with images of passion as something shared, tender and desirable. But could she taste a bit more, and a bit more, and a bit more, without both of them abandoning the vows they’d made to move on to a new life?

  As she fell ever further under his sensual spell, the barriers she’d erected to refuse another offer of carte blanche were beginning to crumble. If she gave in to temptation, took him for her lover, what would be left for her when, inevitably, they parted?

  Emptiness, sorrow, and the bitter knowledge that’d she’d betrayed her own better self. Quite likely, the disdain of ladies she’d begun to look on as friends and the loss of their support for her school. Realities that would be far more difficult to live with than the ugly memories of her bondage to Summerville.

  For without the school, what future would she have?

  She’d be reduced to living on the few resources she’d eked out of the arrangement with Summerville. The call at Lady Sayleford’s had made quite clear that, save for Sophie, none of her family had any interest in her welfare. She would be really and truly alone.

  And Sophie! Resuming her life as a courtesan would ruin Sophie’s chances, too. She would rather starve in the streets than have Sophie discover what it felt like to be treated as unworthy of a mother’s love, an aunt’s respect, or Society’s approval.

  By no means the least consideration, by tempting Christopher back to a life he’d vowed to leave behind, she’d be betraying the man dearest to her.

  There must be a better way. She need only apply herself to devising a method of instructing him that eliminated any opportunities for dalliance. No carriage rides alone, no meetings in a private chamber with just the two of them present. She could meet him only in public places, like their stroll through the market and tea at Gunter’s.

  With others around them, she could even take his arm and savour the energising warmth he radiated, without danger of desire getting out of hand. She’d be able to claim his escort a while longer, build a mental keepsake of joyful interludes to remember and relish after he went on to his new life, and she threw herself fully into hers, teaching her girls.

  She could do it, and she must. The losses she would sustain otherwise were—unthinkable.

  Feeling better about the future, she moved to her secretary to write the note to Sophie. Opening the drawer to find a card, she saw the list she’d begun of Christopher’s faults. Sighing, she drew it out.

  Had she discovered anything she could add? He’d been attentive and courteous today, acting in every way as she’d described him to Maggie, a man who truly liked women, not a womaniser. He’d not arrogantly monopolised the conversation, or attempted to flirt with her lovely sister.

  He’d even been courteous towards her mother, who’d insulted him.

  It would be hard going over rough ground to overcome her infatuation, if she couldn’t do better than this at discovering some faults.

  She looked over to the bouquet he’d bought her, its vase holding pride of place on the side table. Though he’d teasingly treated her as his Virtuous Virgin during their lesson, she had no illusions that he would ever offer her more than the chance to become his mistress.

  Picking up her pen, she wrote at number four, He doesn’t think I’m good enough—to be a wife.

  Not that she held that against him. I’m really not good enough—now. But I’m still too good to become anyone’s mistress—even yours.

  She stared at the line for a long time, feeling something wither inside as she faced that stark reality.

  Could there be any more convincing argument for expunging him from her heart and mind?

  CHAPTER TEN

  A disgruntled Christopher hopped back in the hackney after instructing the jarvey to return to Upper Brook Street. Just when he thought he was doing better at resisting Ellie, something happened to deflect him. This time, it had been her obvious sorrow over the contrast between the loving care Maggie received and the cold, friendless existence she’d suffered. Touched on the raw, angered anew at those who had failed her, he’d been overcome by the need to comfort her.

  But all it took was a touch, no matter how innocently begun, and the beguiling being that was Ellie wove itself into his senses, disengaging thought and intellect, and letting the driving imperative of passion take over. Only a man made of iron, with ice for blood, could have resisted when she offered him her lips!

  As numerous years of riotous living had proved, he was not such a man. Would he be able to quell his sensual nature enough to pursue a wife?

  But he knew his friends enjoyed lusty love lives with their wives. It wasn’t so much that he needed to curb the sensual—though that was certainly necessary to avoid offending an innocent maid while he was courting her. It was curbing his desire for Ellie that he needed to master.

  Before he knew who she was and where she came from, he might have invited her to become his mistress, but he couldn’t possibly insult her with such an offer now. Still, unfair as it was, she was no longer a suitable wife for a man in his position. Somehow, he needed to drum the fact that he couldn’t have Ellie into his brain with enough force that it convinced his senses.

  Somewhat to his surprise, he realised that, except for Ellie, he now felt little desire to pursue another woman from the demi-monde. On some deep level, he wanted to experience the joy and companionship and comfort that came from living with a woman who delighted one, body, mind and soul—a lady he could trust to be his companion and helpmate for life.

  He could become a man worthy of such a lady…couldn’t he?

  He hadn’t needed to hear Lady Wanstead’s dubious opinion of his character to realise that, saddled with his rake’s reputation, his behaviour would be scrutinised more closely than other men’s. Any breach of protocol would prove to watchful mamas that he hadn’t and never would reform. As Ellie had already warned him, being seen as a potential danger to a maiden’s virtue would limit his access to some of the most eligible single ladies—one of whom might be the ideal wife he needed.

  He didn’t want to reduce his choices only to those so desperate to marry that they were prepared to take any risk to snag a husband.

  To avoid making costly mistakes in courtship, he truly needed Ellie’s lessons. But how to learn from her, without putting them both at risk of succumbing to the temptation neither of them seemed able to resist?

  Perhaps he should take Lady Saylebrook up on her invitation and meet Ellie at the Dowager’s. No sane man could consider committing improprieties under the very nose of the Dowager Countess.

  By the time he reached that conclusion, the hackney was halting once again at Upper Brook Street. Paying off the driver, he loped up the front stairs, and was shown into the study where Maggie’s husband and the other two Hellions had already gathered.

  After greetings all round and glasses of port distributed, the friends settled by the fire. ‘So, Giles, what did you hear from Winterbury about the session in the Lords today?’ David Tanner Smith asked.

  Giles made a face. ‘A number of tedious amendments are being suggested to hold up pass
age of the bill. The most harmful seeks to cancel or delay the stripping of votes from the rotten boroughs and their redistribution to the new industrial districts.’

  ‘Can’t Grey come up with a device to counter that?’ Ben Tawny enquired.

  ‘I’ve heard a rumour that he may urge the King to appoint new peers to the Lords—diluting it with enough supporters to ensure the bill’s approval. Heaven knows, if they don’t pass it, there will be devil to pay in the countryside! The riots and burnings when the second bill failed last autumn should be fair enough warning of that.’

  ‘Only rumours?’ Davie said. ‘You should spend more time at White’s, where the power brokers gather. You, too, Ben, now that Alyssa’s father had you voted in. Find out all you can, so we can arm ourselves with better arguments to convince the Lords.’

  ‘I know, I’ve been remiss in attending,’ Giles admitted. ‘With Maggie feeling so unwell, I’ve been spending more evenings at home.’

  ‘I’ll stop by every day, at least until the bill gets approved,’ Ben offered. ‘Alyssa is off on another sketching expedition anyway.’

  ‘Thank you, Ben, that will be most helpful,’ Giles said. ‘Why don’t we delay determining which points we want to bring up at Lord Witlow’s dinner next week until you’ve done some more sleuthing? Which means we can turn instead to the personal—and find out why Christopher has been holding out on us about making the most momentous decision of his life.’

  Christopher felt his face redden as three sets of eyes focused on him.

  ‘You’re giving up wine?’ Davie asked with a grin.

  ‘No, if it’s truly momentous, he must be forswearing women,’ Ben said.

  ‘Actually, you’re not far off,’ Giles said. ‘I had it from Maggie today that Christopher has decided to reform his wandering ways and find a wife.’

  There was a moment of shocked silence, followed by Ben’s hearty laughter. ‘Shame on you, Christopher, teasing a lady in Maggie’s delicate condition!’