What nerve he had to show up here like this! Worse yet, to create a scene that would have village tongues wagging for weeks, when she spent most of her life trying not to call attention to herself. Little good that did her when this man was determined to thrust it upon her.
Although, to be completely honest with herself, part of her found his attentions flattering. No other gentleman had ever pursued her with such determination before, not after she’d given them the kinds of setdowns she’d given to him since they’d met, and why he, of all people—a marquess, for heaven’s sake!—should be the one to do so utterly bewildered her. Even though she knew his attentions would prove just as temporary as those of past visitors to Blackwood Hall, her belly fluttered with foolish hope. She couldn’t help herself. She was still as attracted to him as she’d been from the first moment she saw him, and how wonderful to fantasize that his interest might be something more than just passing entertainment for a bored rake at a dull house party.
But she had to stay away from him. Especially if he continued to call attention to her like this. That she could not allow, handsome marquess or not.
She stomped downstairs and out the front door, the rest of the children flocking out with her. Their eyes grew wide as they stared at the team of horses and smart racing phaeton that Thomas had borrowed from Royston’s stable, while Josie’s eyes narrowed into slits at the man perched on top.
“You said treats, sir.” Jasper, one of the older boys, pushed forward from the crowd of children. “What kind o’ treats?”
Thomas jerked his thumb toward the back of the phaeton. “Untie that basket back there and find out.”
Jasper and Benny rushed forward as excited chatter rose up from the crowd of children. They rarely received treats, and for them to be delivered like this made it an event just short of Christmas morning. Despite feeling a stir of excitement inside her own chest, which probably had nothing to do with the basket and everything to do with the dashing man who’d brought it, Josie irritably scowled as she watched the boys take down the basket, which was almost as large as little Clara, who peered skittishly at Thomas from behind Josie’s skirts.
Jasper lifted the lid, and happy oohs and ahhs went up from the children pressing around.
She glanced over their heads to find Thomas’s blue eyes staring back at her. “What did you bring them?”
“I asked Blackwood’s cook to put together a basket of meat pies and lemon biscuits,” he explained, his eyes never leaving hers. “I knew you wouldn’t refuse them such a surprise.”
“Blackmail, Lord Chesney?” she scolded, although she admired his cunning. It was exactly what she would have done herself. “You would stoop so low as to curry favor with children in order to force me to do your bidding?”
“Of course.” Holding back the stopped team with the reins wrapped around one hand, he held out his other hand toward her. “So please thank me for my thoughtfulness by showing me the countryside.”
She glimpsed the glint in his eyes and knew he was daring her. Just as she knew she was caught. She couldn’t be so rude as to curtly decline his invitation in front of the crowd of curious villagers, especially when he’d brought the children such a wonderful surprise.
But she also refused to take the bait. Instead she gave him a sickeningly saccharine smile. “I’ve been working inside. I’m too mussed and dirty, I’m afraid.”
“I think you look lovely.”
Warmth seeped through her like morning sunshine, and her heart skipped. Did he really think she was lovely?
But there would be time later to contemplate that remark, when half the village wasn’t staring at her and waiting for her reply. “Unfortunately, my maid isn’t here, and I see no groom with you to accompany us.”
“I’ll accompany you,” Alice offered.
Josie kicked at the girl’s foot to quiet her. “Without a proper chaperone,” she continued, aiming a scowl at Alice to make her keep quiet, “I simply cannot go anywhere.”
At that, several villagers scoffed in amusement, and some in nodding approval. But her firm refusal on the grounds of propriety was enough to disperse the crowd now that there was little left of interest to witness in the street, especially since they knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t concede. And especially now that the children had absconded with the meat pies and biscuits into the orphanage, basket and all.
“But you can.” He leaned down to bring his eyes level with hers. “That’s why I asked Royston to borrow the phaeton, specifically.”
She blinked, completely uncomprehending. What did a phaeton have to do with the lack of a chaperone?
“You honestly don’t know?” he murmured with surprise. “Surely suitors have taken you driving—”
“Lord Chesney,” she interrupted irritably, and put up a hand to stop him. Previous suitors—or a decided lack of them—had nothing to do with her present unease. It was this man, with his charms and melting kisses and his determination to uncover her secrets, who left her shaking in her shoes with trepidation. “I don’t have time for your games.”
“No games. I’m serious.” He leaned closer to explain. “The driver of a racing phaeton cannot take his hands off the ribbons, so you’re perfectly safe without a chaperone. Gentlemen in London often drive phaetons so they can have private time alone with their ladies.”
Her heart leapt into her throat. “You—” She lowered her voice to a breathless whisper no one could overhear. “You want private time…with me?”
“Very much.” Then his eyes filled with an earnestness that tugged at her heart. “Spend the afternoon driving with me, Josephine. Please.”
She wanted that, too. Even now her toes curled at the tempting thought of being alone with him. Perhaps he’d kiss her again with that head-spinning, delicious need that had kept her awake all last night and sent her stomach flip-flopping whenever she remembered how good being in his arms felt. Which was nearly constantly. Because it had felt good. So very good.
But she knew better. Not with this man, no matter how tempting he was.
So she sniffed as haughtily as possible despite her dirty appearance in an attempt to drive him away. “We are not in London, my lord.”
“No, we’re not,” he acquiesced. “But we do have a phaeton.” He whistled. “Boys!”
Without warning three pairs of hands went around her waist and lifted her up toward the seat. She gasped in surprise at Jasper and the two boys behind her, then Thomas grabbed her arm and pulled, tugging her up the rest of the way onto the seat beside him.
Just as her bottom touched the bench, Thomas flicked the ribbons and the team moved down the street. He tossed three coins behind to the boys, who must have been in on the plan all along, then turned forward, wrapped both ribbons around his hands to control the horses, and sent them into a quick trot.
“What are you doing?” she fumed. Her hands tightly gripped the seat beneath her as she settled against the leather cushion, with no choice now but to hang on for dear life.
“I thought that was rather obvious.” He expertly set the team into a smooth, fast pace and grinned. “I’ve kidnapped you.”
She looked down at the spinning wheels and at the ground speeding by beneath them as they raced from the village toward the river road and the fields beyond. Oh, she had definitely been kidnapped! And with no means of escape short of breaking her neck.
“Stop this instant!” she ordered, using the same disapproving voice she used on the children when they misbehaved. “You do not have my father’s permission to take me driving.”
He slid an amused glance at her and crooked a brow. As if she’d just said the silliest thing in the world. “Do you really want me to explain to your father how we met and what we were doing when I asked you to go driving?”
Her mouth slapped shut, and the heat of a new blush spread up from the back of her neck. Blast him for using propriety against her! With a heavy sigh, knowing she was defeated, she shot him her deadliest
glare. “You do this sort of thing often?”
“Take ladies driving?”
She’d meant kidnapping. But now that he’d voiced the question, she found herself oddly curious about exactly that, although there was no good reason to be. He would prove just like the other gentlemen before him—interested in her only as long as he needed to be entertained, then forgetting her as soon as the party was over.
Still, since he’d asked…“Yes. Do you?”
He shrugged. “Occasionally.” She wasn’t prepared for the flash of jealousy in her chest at that single word, or the tingle that pulsed through her and landed shamelessly between her legs when he drawled, “But never with a woman as intriguing as you, Josephine.”
She didn’t have time to contemplate what he meant, because with a flick of the ribbons he easily set the team into a slow canter when they passed the edge of the village, where the cobblestones gave way to dirt and the road curved slowly away toward the river. She sat back on the bench, one hand grasping the seat edge, the other one latching tightly on to his arm for lack of anything else to hold on to.
He glanced down at her, his gaze deliberately drifting over her. Her cheeks heated beneath his scrutiny. She knew she looked a fright, and perched high up on the seat next to him, she had nowhere to hide from those sapphire eyes that saw far too much. Her pulse raced, partly because of the sudden nervousness that he roused inside her and partly because she felt as if she’d stumbled into a trap. And desperately needed to find her way out.
She shifted away from him. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded bluntly. “What could you possibly want with me?”
He slowed the horses, finally bringing the team to a walk as they turned off the main road and down a dirt lane angling away toward the fields and behind the cover of a tall hedgerow. He faced her on the seat, the walking team needing less of his attention.
Which meant he could focus more of it on her. “I told you—”
“Yes, that I’m a mystery to be solved,” she threw back. Which was exactly what she feared, why she’d tried so hard to dissuade his attentions. Because he was getting too close now, with a curiosity about her that could lead nowhere but to trouble. Yet every time she tried to chase him away, she seemed only to raise his interest more. And that had to stop. Now. “And as I told you, there is nothing to solve.”
“You’re lying,” he accused evenly.
She gaped at his audacity. “Really, Lord Chesney, you make—”
“Thomas,” he corrected.
Blowing out an aggravated sigh, refusing to use his Christian name, she began again, “You make carrying on a proper conversation impossible. Ladies do not like to be called liars.”
“Then ladies shouldn’t lie,” he admonished softly. “You are a mystery, Josephine. You’re not like any other woman I’ve ever met.”
Her heart skittered at the flirtation. Clearly nothing but a lie itself, the compliment he’d given was obviously meant only to soften her to his pursuit, yet the words warmed her insides as much as if he’d declared her the most beautiful woman in the world. And oh, what a dangerous warmth that was!
With determination to withstand his charms, she sniffed as if offended at the compliment. “I’m not special.”
“Oh yes, you are,” he murmured, and his deep voice curled around her like caressing fingers. “Deny it all you want to, but there’s something different about you. And I need to find out what it is.”
She swallowed nervously. Her secret was still safe from him, although she wasn’t completely certain she was. Not with the way he kept looking at her as if he were contemplating taking a bite of her. And certainly not with the inexplicable longing that crept up inside her to let him do exactly that.
Yet suspicion pulsed through her. “Why?” she demanded, but drat him, the word emerged as a throaty purr.
He hesitated and looked away. “Yesterday morning when we were in the stable…” His gaze remained fixed on the horses’ ears in front of him. “How did you know how to comfort me like that?”
She blinked. That was the big secret he wanted from her? Well, that wasn’t at all what she’d expected. But she also didn’t know how to answer. She bit her lip. What could she say? That she’d known how to soothe him because she’d calmed the orphans through harsh beatings, freezing days without food or blankets, and nights locked in the cellar with the rats? But she couldn’t tell him what life had been like for her before she met the Carlisles, because then he truly would pity her. And he would never look at her with those heated eyes again, as if she were a woman a man like him would truly desire.
She had no future with him; she was neither naïve nor foolish enough to expect more with him. But she wasn’t quite ready to surrender all hope, either, and end the fantasy before she had to.
Dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap, she shrugged and evaded, “What does it matter?”
“Because sometimes,” he admitted with a touch of embarrassment underlying his voice, “I startle like that. A loud sound or a quick movement, and I become…nervous.”
Nervous? What she’d witnessed yesterday hadn’t been nervousness but a full-out panicked fit, and clearly, with the quick way he’d recovered, he hadn’t been surprised. Which meant the fits happened often.
Apparently Thomas Matteson was guarding his own secrets.
“When I’m around you, Josephine, there’s none of—” He stopped, censoring whatever quiet admission he’d been about to make. When he continued, he said instead, “No one’s been able to help like that before. I need to know what you did, how you knew to do that.” He paused. “I need to know why you.”
He needed to know, just as much as she needed to keep her silence. Yet for one moment she considered revealing everything, to find relief in finally being able to share with someone the part of her life that isolated her so much from the people she loved. Even from her family.
No. No good would come of that. She had to make him leave her alone before he discovered all her secrets. And there was no other way to do it than by revealing the most painful one of all.
Ignoring the stabs of equal parts dread and panic plunging into her, she drew a deep breath and said softly, “That night at the dance, you met my brothers.” She ignored the tight clenching of her chest as she confessed, “But they’re not my true brothers.”
“Ah, stepbrothers.” He nodded knowingly. “Which explains why you don’t look a thing—”
“I was adopted.”
* * *
Thomas pulled back sharply on the reins and brought the team to a prancing stop. He turned in the seat to stare at her as stunned surprise flashed through him. Adopted? He’d known she was keeping secrets, but good Lord, he hadn’t expected that.
His eyes narrowing, he took in every bit of her, from the sea-green eyes to the dirt smear on her forehead. Since the moment she’d stuck her head out the window of the orphanage to glare down at him, he’d seen a hundred different emotions flit across her pretty face, but always the unguarded moments were fleeting, as if a veil had come down across her features.
But this expression now…well, that was pure feminine vulnerability, and it took his breath away.
She glanced down at her hands, as if unable to look at him for fear that he gazed on her with shock. Or worse, with pity. “Mama wanted another child—a girl—but she’d had complications with Quinn and the doctors advised her against getting with child again. So they adopted me.” Her gaze fixed on her fingers as they plucked nervously at her skirt. “I was six and a hellion, the most impossible child to be the daughter of a baron, truly. But they wanted a girl who could hold her own against the boys, and they raised me as if I were their natural-born daughter.”
“You’re very fortunate,” he mumbled, not knowing what else to say.
But a sad, self-deprecating smile tugged faintly at her lips. “I suppose.”
That certainly wasn’t the response he’d expected. “Josephine, if I—”
“
Now that you know who I really am,” she interrupted, her spine straightening as she pulled herself up tall on the seat beside him, “I’m certain you’ll want to apologize for kissing me yesterday in the stables and return me to the orphanage.”
“Not for the world,” he murmured, letting his eyes drift down to stare tantalizingly at the top swells of her breasts just visible over her lace-edged neckline. He thought he saw her tremble. “The way you look and taste, what you do to me—” She swallowed nervously at that, and the gentle undulation of her throat made his gut clench, so hard that it stopped him in mid-sentence. Sweet Lucifer, this woman was a poisonous cure.
He shifted slightly to brush his thigh against hers on the narrow seat, and now there was no doubt she was trembling. Such a strong and confident woman, yet still so vulnerable, still so unaware of the effect she had on him. Frustration roared inside him that he couldn’t take her into his arms and kiss her again, just to prove to her how right kissing her had been. The same phaeton that allowed them to be alone and unchaperoned also prevented all the pleasures of being unchaperoned. And alone.
“Did you enjoy it, Josephine?” he asked gently, not wanting to frighten her with the intensity of his desire to hear her answer.
Her hands tightened in the fabric of her skirt, as if she was fighting back the urge to either slap him or grab him and pull him closer. And the little hellcat could very well have been contemplating either option. But he knew which one he wanted from her, although he feared she didn’t want the same. Good Lord. This had never happened to him before, not knowing if a woman wanted him or not. His kisses usually left women begging to be taken to his bed, but then, Josephine Carlisle was no ordinary woman. She was an intriguing, sharp, and independent creature, the likes of which he’d never met before. One who made him feel whole again when he was with her. And he wasn’t ready to let go of that sensation just yet.
How I Married a Marquess Page 8
